


Medicine Man

by SocialDegenerate



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, M/M, Phone Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocialDegenerate/pseuds/SocialDegenerate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo, a med student, is on placement at Karakura Hospital. Grimmjow gets into a fight and lands himself in that same hospital. Naturally, sparks fly between the pair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tired of hearing about this so:  
> In chapter 10, Ichigo has sex with Grimmjow while he's drunk. My intention with this scene was not non-con or dub-con, but some readers have been taking it as such so avoid if you think that would make you uncomfortable.  
> IRL, drunken consent is a messy area as the line between 'okay' and 'incapacitated' is hard to find, and it's best to err on the side of caution. Personally, I've had sex while being the drunker partner many times and have never considered it to be rape; these scenes were based on personal experience but YMMV. In the context of this story and this particular story alone, it is not intended to be rape and I consider Ichigo's consent to be reasonably well-informed, I just didn't wite it as well as I could have. My undergrad focused on sexual assault and rape crimes, so I do happen to know what I'm talking about and feel uncomfortable trivialising rape as a plot point for a silly fanfic.  
> Would I write the scene like that now that I'm older and a better writer? No. Am I going to go back and rewrite a chapter that is almost four years old? Also no.

The small bar was noisy and crowded, even on a Thursday night. Grimmjow could barely hear Nnoitra’s irritating chatter- which, upon reflection, was probably a good thing. There was only so much Grimmjow could take, and his temper was wearing down.

Draining the last of his beer, Grimmjow shifted slightly where he stood, trying to angle himself away from Nnoitra’s grating voice. He turned to put his bottle down on a nearby table, only to stumble forward when a body suddenly smacked into him from behind. Lips curled into a snarl, he spun to curse out the other person.

Before he could, though, a slurring voice reached his ears. “Wha’ da _fuck_ are you doin’, ya blue-haired cunt? Y’made me spill m’drink!”

Grimmjow couldn’t help it- he laughed. _This_ was what he needed to blow off some of the tension he was feeling. “You hit _me_ , asshole. But fuck, if you wanna go, bring it on!”

Grimmjow grabbed the hem of his tight T-shirt, pulling it off and throwing it back to his friends, most of whom were starting to egg him on. Only Starrk didn’t look interested in the looming fight- but then again, when did that man _ever_ look interested in anything?

The bar’s other patrons, hearing the shouts and catcalls coming from Grimmjow’s friends, realised what was about to happen and began to take sides as the drunk stranger shook back his long, red hair and rushed towards Grimmjow.

Ducking a clumsily-swung fist and letting the other man stumble past him, Grimmjow thrust an elbow back into the redhead’s spine. An angry shout sounded from the drunk, who promptly turned and lunged again. This time, a tribal tattoo-covered forearm managed to clip Grimmjow’s cheek, sending a slight ache up his face.

He had drunk enough alcohol to slightly dull the pain, but it wasn’t gone completely; unlike the redhead, who seemed so drunk that he probably wouldn’t notice if he lost a leg. That suspicion was only strengthened when a vicious right uppercut from Grimmjow barely made the other man pause. The redhead spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed, catching the blue-haired man off guard with a swift kick to the stomach.

Doubling over with a winded cough, Grimmjow barely dodged another fist that swung for his face, the drunken crowd screaming for blood. Grimmjow grit his teeth and pushed through the haze of alcohol and pain, moving forward to slam his shoulder into the stranger’s stomach. Following it up with a fist into the redhead’s nose, Grimmjow panted as he watched the tattooed man fall to the floor.

A round of cheers erupted from the rowdy audience, Grimmjow looking over and winking arrogantly to his friends. He hadn’t lost a bar fight in his life, and he wasn’t about to start. But the last thing he expected was for the redhead to still be a contender: a large hand suddenly grabbed Grimmjow’s ankle, a sharp pull making him slip on the booze-slicked floor and land heavily on his back.

Grimmjow, momentarily stunned, didn’t see the bottle held upside-down in the stranger’s hand- but he definitely felt it when the glass shattered against his chest, the jagged edges tearing right down his bare torso.

Pulling himself up with a growl of rage, only pure adrenaline keeping him moving at this point, Grimmjow managed to land one more punch in the middle of the redhead’s face, warm blood covering his fingers and a manic grin on his lips as he passed out from his gushing wound.

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo Kurosaki groaned tiredly as he stepped out of his car, running a hand through his messy orange hair. He loved studying medicine, and he loved _most_ aspects of being on placement in a proper hospital- but trying to constantly be nice to the patients, their visitors and everyone working in the place had been wearing on him.

Luckily it was Friday, his last day of his placement before he went back to university. If he had to be civil for much longer, Ichigo wasn’t quite sure _what_ would happen; he just knew that it most likely wouldn’t be good for his future medical career.

It wasn’t that the redhead _couldn’t_ be nice…he was just a little out of practice. Between dealing with an insane father, friends who tended to grate on his nerves, and the groups of idiots who constantly wanted to fight him over the most stupid things, Ichigo didn’t have a lot to smile about. His perpetual scowl, though, wasn’t the greatest bedside manner a doctor-in-training could have.

Of course, he’d been told that by an unhappy-looking Ryuuken Ishida, and _he’d_ made hospital director- so a day of not being perfectly polite and kind probably wouldn’t kill Ichigo’s job prospects completely. It had better not: the redhead hadn’t worked through almost seven years of university to stuff up now. He was damn close to becoming an intern, and all he had to do was successfully finish out the school year.

Realising that he was almost late, Ichigo hurried through the parking lot and past the main doors of the hospital. It didn’t take him long to locate Doctor Unohana, the woman he had been shadowing for most of his placement. Now _there_ was a perfect example of impeccable bedside manner: the woman’s small smile and polite demeanour rarely faltered, yet she somehow managed to speak with enough force to bend even the most stubborn patient to her will.

How Doctor Unohana could be so kind _and_ so freaking scary, Ichigo would never know. Greeting the woman, he walked with her through the busy halls of Karakura Hospital as she filled him in on their first couple of patients.

“Because this is your last day, you can have a little more reign to check the patients over. Is that okay with you?” Doctor Unohana asked quietly, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Ichigo replied, making sure that he didn’t sound _too_ tired. Doctor Unohana didn’t seem to notice anything, smiling and nodding as she showed him to his first patient for the day.

The first few hours in the general wards passed fairly quickly, Ichigo giving a number of patients their check-ups as Doctor Unohana occasionally commented on things he should or shouldn’t be doing. The student was glad that the day seemed to be passing without a hitch; everyone he’d met so far had been relatively placid, unlike some of the demanding bastards he’d dealt with earlier in his placement.

Saying goodbye to a middle-aged woman who was on the tail end of her recovery from an appendectomy, Ichigo followed Doctor Unohana back into the corridor and to the next door.

“You’ve been doing well so far, Mister Kurosaki,” Doctor Unohana mentioned offhandedly as she stopped in front of the closed room. “You seem well prepared for your internship next year. I’ll be sure to inform Doctor Ishida of that.”

The redhead blinked, a little embarrassed by the praise and the fact that she would recommend him for an internship at the hospital. “Th-thank you, Doctor Unohana. You’ve been really helpful.”

The small woman reached up and patted him on the shoulder, a pleased smile playing on her lips. “It’s no problem at all. Now, here we have a twenty-six-year-old male, who was brought in last night with a glass wound down his torso. We’re keeping him for a day or two to be certain that the blood loss hasn’t affected him, and to make sure that he doesn’t aggravate the wound.”

“A street fight?” Ichigo wondered aloud, knowing first-hand how nasty those could get when people were willing to play dirty. He’d been caught down the bicep with a switchblade earlier in the year, and he didn’t think the scar would ever properly fade. It’d been a cheap, lucky shot.

“We’re not entirely sure- his friends wouldn’t tell us anything other than the fact that the cut was inflicted with a broken bottle, and the patient himself seemed more concerned about whether the other participant in the fight had come out better or worse than himself. Maybe he’ll tell us something more today.”

Knocking lightly on the wood, Doctor Unohana paused before opening the door, Ichigo following close behind. In the darkened room, it was a little hard for the redhead to make out the figure sitting up in the bed, face turned away from the door. Doctor Unohana promptly moved to the room’s window, opening the curtains and letting light flood in.

Ichigo felt his eyes widen as he took in the man before him, lounging shirtless with his lower half under the bedcovers. Although a pristine white bandage was wound right across the patient’s torso, Ichigo could tell from the broad shoulders and sculpted arms that the man was probably well-muscled under the material.

Feeling his eyes travelling down the wrap of bandages, Ichigo forced his gaze up to the man’s face before he could look a little further than was considered proper. Although he knew perfectly well that he could be attracted to men, now was _not_ the time for that sort of thing. He had a degree of professionalism to maintain, after all.

The sight of bright blue hair was a bit of a shock to Ichigo, and he wondered just how he’d managed to miss that glaring detail at first. It was a weird colour, but for whatever reason it really seemed to _suit_ the guy. In fact, it almost matched his eyes...

Ichigo felt a jolt as he realised that those blue eyes were staring directly at him, a strangely predatory expression obvious there. He knew that there was something he should have been doing, been _saying_ , but he just couldn’t break away from that entrancing blue stare.

“S’up, Retsu? Who’s the newbie? Is it bring ya kid to work day or somethin’?” Thin lips curled up in a mocking grin, displaying perfectly white teeth with canines that seemed a _tad_ more pointed than they should have been. Ichigo felt his eyes narrow, but he held his tongue and let Doctor Unohana respond to the blue-haired patient.

“Mister Jaegerjaquez, this is Ichigo Kurosaki. He’s a fourth-year med student from Karakura University who is currently here on work placement.”

The man’s grin widened, his gaze remaining firm on Ichigo as Doctor Unohana spoke. When she finished, the tip of his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, his relaxed voice sounding smooth and charming as he replied.

“Retsu, Retsu, I told ya last night: call me Grimmjow. Same goes for you, Schoolboy.”

Ichigo’s mouth opened without his permission, the childish nickname instantly pissing him off. “My name is _Ichigo_. Ichigo Kurosaki. Not Schoolboy, or anything _else_ you might happen to think up.”

On the other side of the room, Doctor Unohana made a small sound, but Ichigo found that he couldn’t look away from Grimmjow to investigate or apologise for his rude behaviour. The patient’s expression had morphed into something more challenging, and Ichigo had never been able to back down from a fight.

“Oooh, I _like_ you, Schoolboy. Can’t say I’ve ever had a doctor talk back t’me like that.” The mocking, arrogant grin appeared again, Grimmjow obviously taunting the redhead. His usual scowl now back on his face, Ichigo crossed his arms and glared down at the slightly older man. Before he could retort, though, Doctor Unohana spoke up in an attempt to dissipate the growing conflict.

“Mist… _Grimmjow_ , Mister Kurosaki is going to check over your stitches and your vital signs, to ensure that the blood loss hasn’t affected you too badly. Do you have any issues with being treated by a fully-supervised student?”

Ichigo wasn’t offended by the doctor’s final statement: it was the same thing that every patient was asked, because a few were too paranoid to let an unqualified med student near them. He was actually kind of hoping that the blue-haired asshole _would_ have a problem with it, simply so that he could move away from the arrogant bastard.

“You’re askin’ if I have a problem with letting that damn fine piece a’ meat touch me? Schoolboy, you don’t even need permission. Get the fuck over here.”

Mouth falling open at Grimmjow’s bluntness, Ichigo’s temper frayed as his cheeks heated in embarrassment. How the _Hell_ could the man be so blasé about saying something like that? Really, he could have been straight, for all the blue-haired patient knew.

Ichigo didn’t realise that he was simply staring, motionless, until Grimmjow started laughing and Doctor Unohana quietly spoke up. “Mister Kurosaki, you may start by taking his temperature, blood pressure and pulse.”

Waking up to himself, Ichigo felt his blush increase a little even though the woman’s tone wasn’t scolding in the least. “O-of course, Doctor Unohana. Sorry.”

Focusing solely on what he was supposed to be doing, Ichigo tried to ignore Grimmjow’s intense stare and _far_ too pleased grin. Reminding himself that this was just another patient, no different from the middle-aged woman or anyone else he’d looked at during his placement, he discussed Grimmjow’s vitals with Doctor Unohana and tried to stay as calm as possible.

“Grimmjow, everything seems to be alright there. Mr Kurosaki will now look at your stitches, so if you wouldn’t mind sitting forward, he can remove the bandage.” Doctor Unohana gestured Ichigo forward again, and the redhead felt a lump start to block up his throat.

The look Grimmjow was giving him was positively _seductive_ , the man stretching his long arms out with a deep groan before he sat up straighter. The bedcovers fell lower around the man’s waist, but Ichigo forced his gaze to remain on the white bandage- nothing below the waist was his concern right now. Or at all.

Swallowing hard, Ichigo unclipped the end of the bandage, carefully unwinding it around Grimmjow’s torso. He felt a twitch in his stomach as a well-muscled chest and abdomen started to come into view, but he forced it down: this was simply a work duty, and the blue-haired man was an annoying, arrogant prick. Even if he _was_ attracted to the patient- which he most certainly wasn’t- the man’s personality was a complete turn-off.

Ichigo pulled the last of the bandage away, setting it off to the side and leaning in to inspect the stitches. The recently-repaired wound still looked quite bad, the skin around it red and painful-looking. The thing that shook Ichigo the most, though, was the sheer size of the slice: it went almost the entire length of Grimmjow’s torso, and must have bled like Hell.

Still, it looked alright for a stitch job that couldn’t have been done more than twelve hours before, and neither Ichigo nor Doctor Unohana could see anything that needed fixing. Managing to forget just how perverted the patient seemed to be, Ichigo reached forward without hesitation and lightly prodded the skin of Grimmjow’s abdomen, testing the man’s reaction and the tautness of the stitches.

A deep, rumbling groan had the student grinding his teeth together as he forced himself to finish the examination, pulling his hand away the moment he was done. Face practically burning up, he refused to meet Grimmjow’s eyes; instead, he looked at the vaguely amused Doctor Unohana, gesturing to the new bandage she was holding.

“Can you please put that on for me, doctor…” Ichigo muttered, unwilling to touch the bastard patient again. The woman didn’t question the redhead, obviously knowing what was going on; Ichigo could only be glad about that.

“Awww, I thought we were havin’ fun, Schoolboy. Don’t you love me anymore?” The obvious mockery in Grimmjow’s tone made Ichigo see red, and before he knew it, he was storming out of the room and into the hallway. Really, it was that or attack the man: Ichigo was damn relieved that his body had chosen the former.

How could he be expected to work properly under such… _circumstances?_ Fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, the redhead forced himself to calm down. Doctor Unohana had been so pleased with him; had Grimmjow screwed all that up? Letting out a low growl of frustration, Ichigo leant back against the wall by the door.

Faintly, he heard Doctor Unohana tell Grimmjow that she would check up on him later in the afternoon, and soon the door beside him opened.

“Mister Kurosaki…”

“I know I screwed up, okay? I shouldn’t let patients get to me like that, but…but…he’s just so… _ugh!”_ Ichigo ran a hand through his messy hair, tugging on the soft strands. He wasn’t sure who he was more pissed at: Grimmjow for pushing him, or himself for responding.

“As I was about to say, Mister Kurosaki,” Doctor Unohana said in her bizarrely polite-yet-stern tone, “You handled yourself admirably for someone who is unused to more… _eccentric_ patients. You will need to work on maintaining your temper, though. I’ll be going back to check on Mister Jaegerjaquez in several hours, but you may remain away from him if you wish.”

The offer was tempting, but Ichigo shook his head with determination. “I’ll do the check-up. Like you said, I need practice with restraining myself- I’m not gonna let that bas-… _man_ get the better of me. It’ll be fine.”

Doctor Unohana looked a little dubious, but Ichigo gave it no mind.

When he next went into that room, he was going to show Grimmjow that the man’s teasing wasn’t effective in the least. He wasn’t going to let some blue-haired idiot screw this placement up for him.


	2. Good Friends and a Bottle of Pills

“Are you certain that you wish to do this, Mister Kurosaki? It’s just that I cannot have you lashing out at my patients…”

“I told you, it’ll be fine. I know what to expect now, and I won’t let anything he says affect me. This’ll be good practice,” Ichigo reassured Doctor Unohana. It had been several hours since his first encounter with Grimmjow, and the redhead was determined to remain calm and professional while performing the patient’s afternoon check-up.

If he couldn’t win a physical fight with the man, then he wasn’t going to back down from a battle of wills. Grimmjow wasn’t going to get to him.

Standing perfectly straight and squaring his shoulders, Ichigo walked to the room door and knocked, not waiting for a response before he entered. This time, Grimmjow had his gaze directed at the room’s entrance, that cocky grin on his face again.

“Afternoon, Schoolboy! Listen, before I forget, I wanna tell you somethin’.”

Ichigo fought back the urge to roll his eyes, simply nodding to show that he was listening. He didn’t particularly like the gleam in those impossibly blue eyes…

“I just wanna let you know that you look damn fuckable when you’re mad.”

Hands clenching at his side, the redhead plastered a smile on his face- although it looked more like a grimace than anything else. He’d been _so_ determined to remain unaffected by Grimmjow, but it’d taken the man all of ten seconds to blow all that out the window. Focusing on keeping his breathing deep and steady, Ichigo moved further into the room and allowed Doctor Unohana in behind him.

“Now, Mister Jaegerjaquez, I will have to implore that you don’t sexually harass the doctors here.” The woman still managed to speak with a smile, even though she was clearly reprimanding Grimmjow for his behaviour; Ichigo wondered if he could ever master that particular trick. It must have taken incredible self-control…

“But Retsu, you can’t seriously be tellin’ me that you wouldn’t wanna tap that if you were thirty years younger. Look at him!” Grimmjow was now openly leering at Ichigo, the redhead’s cheeks flaming from the older man’s sheer forwardness. Neither male noticed the scowl that quickly snuck into Doctor Unohana’s expression at the over-estimation of her age, and the woman quickly reined herself back in.

“That’s neither here nor there, Mister Jaegerjaquez. Now, if you would be so kind as to allow Mister Kurosaki to check you over, you might find yourself being released within an hour or two.” Moving to the opposite side of the bed, Doctor Unohana waited for Ichigo to begin his check-up. The redhead stood stiffly by the bed, obviously riled by the flirtatious patient; his behaviour only seemed to encourage Grimmjow, who hadn’t stopped grinning since the student had stepped into the room.

“Can I get my favourite Schoolboy to give me a, ah, ‘full body’ check-up before then? C’mon, you know you wanna, Ichi…”

“ _No_ ,” Ichigo growled, reaching for the end of Grimmjow’s bandage and pulling it loose as gently as he could manage. “I will _not_ sleep with you, blow you, jerk you off, make out with you or do _anything_ unrelated to your recovery. Now, if you have no more questions, I’ll finish your check-up and you can leave.”

“Wanna come home with me? I’m sure we can think up somethin’ to do that wasn’t on your list.” Grimmjow’s hand moved towards Ichigo, but just as his fingers brushed the redhead’s thigh, the younger man stepped back out of the way. But, as Ichigo should have expected, Grimmjow still didn’t look deterred in the least.

“Oh my God, _NO!”_ The redhead practically exploded in frustration, hands shoved into his pockets so that he couldn’t get physical with the patient. “Besides, maybe I’m not even gay. Did you think about _that_?”

Grimmjow’s sudden bout of laughter shocked the Hell out of Ichigo, his eyebrows rising up his forehead as he stared at the odd man. “Oh, please! If you weren’t at least a little into dudes, you _so_ would’ve brought that up earlier. And shit, you reckon I’ve never turned a straight guy gay?”

Dissolving into manic laughter again, Grimmjow tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. Ichigo took a step back so that he didn’t wrap his hands around the man’s throat and kill him, and then had to take another when he suddenly wanted to bite and lick at the unmarked skin. The half-unwrapped bandage around Grimmjow’s torso fell loosely to the man’s waist, and Ichigo swallowed hard.

‘ _No. No, no, NO,’_ the redhead repeated in his mind. ‘ _He’s a patient, **and** an asshole. You don’t need that. He is **not** the most attractive guy you’ve seen in a long time.’_

Even the line of stitches running down Grimmjow’s well-defined chest didn’t mar him, the effect only making him seem…dangerous. Ichigo vaguely wondered whether the idea that women went for bad boys applied to gay men, too. But then he shook himself, realising exactly what he was considering. He was _not_ attracted to Grimmjow, the insufferable dick.

“Honestly, Jaegerjaquez, I don’t give a shit about what you’ve done. I just want to check you over and keep going.” He barely managed to avoid snapping at Grimmjow, his tone coming out frustrated and tired. It came as a shock when a gentle hand came to rest on his bicep, Doctor Unohana having moved across the room while the men were preoccupied.

“Ichigo, you may take a quick break. I’ll finish up with Mister Jaegerjaquez, and meet you just outside.” The redhead opened his mouth to assure her that he could- and _would_ \- finish his work properly, but the look in her eyes and the fact that she had actually used his first name quieted him down. Unable to resist shooting a quick glare at the smirking patient, Ichigo turned on his heel and left the room, muttering to himself about creeps with stupid hair.

Grimmjow watched the med student leave with a satisfied smile on his face, eyes flicking back to Doctor Unohana. The woman was still smiling, but her eyes had a dangerous steel to them; Grimmjow’s smile faded a little.

“What?” He asked, feeling a tiny flash of fear as the small woman stepped towards him.

“Just sit quietly, Mister Jaegerjaquez, and _I’ll_ do your check-up.”

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo groaned, slumping forward until his head hit Shuuhei’s kitchen table. A long-nailed hand immediately wove its way into his hair, its owner sighing drunkenly. “Ichigo darling, what’s wrong? You’ve been grumpy all evening.”

Blindly batting the hand away, the redhead reluctantly sat up, locating his beer and drinking deeply from it. He glanced at the drunken crowd gathered around the table, his friends all looking expectantly at him. Rangiku’s hand moved forward once again, the woman this time jabbing him in the neck with a manicured nail. “C’mon, spill it, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo grumbled under his breath, placing his bottle back on the table. “It’s nothing. Just a dick of a patient I was dealing with today.”

“Vent, Ichigo. You’ll feel better,” Shuuhei announced, slapping a hand down on the wood. The redhead debated a little about how much he should say, but he’d downed a few too many beers to keep his mouth shut for long.

“This guy was a total asshole. The minute I walked in the door, he started hitting on me. It wasn’t even subtle. I mean, really, how much of a cockhead do you have to be to tell someone that they look fuckable when they’re angry?” Scowling, Ichigo reached for his beer again. Rangiku let out a disgusted squeal.

“Was he old? I bet he was old! And ugly! Eww, no _wonder_ you’re pissy! I’d be totally raging too if some gross old guy started hitting on me.”

On the other side of the table, Shinji Hirako laughed loudly. “Matsumoto, you’ll fuck anything that can’t run away fast enough. S’if _you’d_ care about an old guy flirting with you.”

Huffing, Rangiku threw a bottle cap at the grinning blond, nailing him right between the eyes. Shinji yelped, rubbing the spot that the cap had hit. Next to him, Ikkaku Madarame roared with laughter.

All fired up on liquid courage, Ichigo couldn’t stem the flow of words that wanted to escape from his mouth. “He…he wasn’t ugly. Or old. He was, like…twenty-six, or something, and he was hot as _fuck_. If he wasn’t such a goddamn prick, I probably _would’ve_ let him fuck me.”

All the noise around the table suddenly died as Ichigo drank the last of his beer. It took the redhead a few moments to realise that everyone was staring at him, and he quickly ran through what he’d just said.

_‘Oh… **fuck**.’_

Rangiku was the first to speak up again, leaning forward and letting her low-cut top fall even further down her large chest. “Ichigo, are you… _gay_?”

Ichigo groaned again, this time repeatedly hitting his head on the table. He was never going to drink again. _Ever_.

Opening his mouth to answer, Ichigo was cut off by an irate Tatsuki. “Wait a minute, what about Orihime? If you dated her for that long, even knowing you were into guys, I’m going to rip your balls off!”

Ichigo hit his head against the table a few more times. He and Orihime had started dating just after high school, and had been together for almost two years until they parted amicably, deciding that they were better as friends than lovers. But that hadn’t had anything to do with Ichigo’s… _leanings_.

“Calm down, Tatsuki. I’m not… _totally_ gay, just somewhere in the middle, okay? Can we talk about something else?”

“Oh, _Hell_ no, Kurosaki!” Ikkaku sat up in his seat, a smirk on his face. “Why’d you never tell us _that_? I mean, it’s not like you’re alone, what with Queen of the Fairies over here.”

Laughing, the bald man gestured to a pissed-off looking Yumichika, who slapped his friend over the head with an indignant huff.

“Did I ever tell you I was _straight?_ ” Ichigo grumbled, head still resting against the table. He _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation, especially as it was bound to end up with him having to describe every male he’d ever slept with. The list wasn’t long, and none of them had ever lasted longer than one or two dates; that was why he’d never introduced his friends to any of them. But that was _his_ business, and his alone.

“Did Orihime know all this?” Shuuhei asked, sounding genuinely curious. Ichigo finally lifted his head, shaking it.

“No, because it _didn’t matter_. She-…actually, where _is_ Orihime? And Renji, and Rukia?” Looking around, Ichigo finally realised that none of those three were sitting at the table. Renji and Rukia he could understand, they were probably off doing something together, but Orihime not being there was _weird_. Especially as Tatsuki was acting perfectly normal in her best friend’s absence.

There was a bit of quiet muttering before Rangiku spoke up. “Orihime’s with Rukia somewhere, after…y’know…what happened…”

Ichigo stared at the well-endowed woman in confusion. Obviously, he’d missed something along the line somewhere. “What? _What_ happened?”

“You mean you didn’t hear?” Yumichika piped up, pleased about the opportunity to gossip. “Renji and Rukia broke up yesterday! She dumped him because he was too scared of a proper commitment: said she wanted a ring, but he just couldn’t do it. I don’t understand why, weddings are just so beautiful…”

Mouth gaping, Ichigo blinked in confusion. If there was one couple he’d thought would be together forever, it was those two. Then again, people had said the same thing about him and Orihime…

“Okay, so I get why the girls aren’t here, but where’s Renji? C’mon, Shuuhei, don’t tell me you didn’t invite him over, he’s gotta be _crushed_.” In the back of his mind, Ichigo was glad that everyone seemed to have moved on from the topic of his sexuality; but he felt bad for the man who was one of his best friends. Renji would’ve been heartbroken…

“I tried calling him all day, even went to his place a couple of times. He never answered, though, so knowing him, he’s either curled up in a corner bawling or drunkenly passed out…also in a corner. If he doesn’t answer tomorrow, I’ll break down his door.” Shuuhei waved his hand dismissively, obviously not too worried about the tattooed redhead.

Ichigo felt a little dubious, but he let it go. Shuuhei had known Renji for longer than anyone bar Rukia, so it wasn’t really Ichigo’s place to question the man’s judgement. He just hoped that Renji wouldn’t do something completely stupid in the meantime.

“Psh, this is depressing!” Rangiku practically yelled, raising her beer bottle. “Ichigo, spill! How many guys have you fucked? Were they hot? Were you on top? Would you screw Yumi? What about Ikkaku? Renji? Shuuhei? Shinji?”

Slamming his palm down and standing up, Ichigo walked to the fridge and pulled out a new beer before pausing, thinking for a second, and reaching back in for an entire six-pack. Maybe if he drank enough, he’d pass out before he had to answer any of those stupid questions.

\--------------------------------------------

Listening to his lecturer drone on about clinical practices, the man repeating himself for the fourth time that day, Ichigo’s mind began to wander away from the lesson at hand. He knew that he should have been focusing, but he just… _couldn’t_.

All he could think about was Friday night. The way he’d started drunkenly mouthing off about who he liked to sleep with, and how he hadn’t quite managed to dodge _all_ of Rangiku’s annoying questions. Honestly, when that woman got drunk, she was more irritating than Grimmjow.

Ichigo felt his pen snap in his hand, shards of clear plastic scratching the skin of his palm. _Grimmjow_. That prick was the source of all his frustration: the reason why he’d stuffed up his placement, and probably lost his recommendation from Doctor Unohana; the reason why his friends were suddenly so interested in his sex life; and the reason why he’d barely slept on the weekend, his dreams invaded by images of mocking blue eyes and a predatory grin.

He’d spent less than thirty minutes with the fucker, yet Grimmjow had caused him _hours_ of torment. Dammit, if he ever saw the guy again, he was going to break a few of those perfect teeth. Maybe with a busted lip and a broken nose, he wouldn’t look so _goddamned gorgeous…_

Something inside Ichigo fractured, and he threw his lecture pad into his bag before standing up and leaving the theatre. He had less than an hour of class left for the day but he just couldn’t do it. Warm sunlight hit his face as he stepped into the open air, the redhead breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself down.

He’d _never_ let anyone get to him like this before. Why couldn’t he let it go? People were always trying to rile him, whether it was about his attitude, his actions, or Hell, even his appearance. None of them had bothered him once they’d left his sight.

Why was Grimmjow the exception? The man didn’t _deserve_ the amount of attention Ichigo was granting him. Strengthening his resolve once again, Ichigo forced his mind onto something, _anything_ else. Beginning the walk to the car park, the redhead concentrated solely on medical theory and the details of his latest assignment.

_Anything_ to keep his mind from straying again.


	3. Fucking Hostile

The following day, Ichigo joined the swarm of students leaving the seminar room, several pages of notes tucked into his bag. Someone was clearly smiling down on him today, because he’d finally managed to keep his focus long enough to finish all his classes.

Pulling out his cell phone, he saw that it was just after two in the afternoon. He had nothing else lined up for the day, but he was enjoying the Jaegerjaquez-free state he seemed to have entered; if he just went home, he’d probably start _thinking_ again. Shrugging to himself, the redhead pulled up his contact list and clicked on Shuuhei’s number. Still walking to his car, Ichigo waited for the call to connect.

“Hey,” a calm voice eventually greeted, the sound of traffic loud in the background of the call.

“Hey, Shuu,” Ichigo replied. “Listen, you get onto Renji yet?”

“Yeah, I broke my way into his place on Saturday. The poor guy got himself into a bar fight and ended up with a broken nose and a missing tooth, that’s why he didn’t want to see anyone.”

“Oh, shit! Is he okay? What happened?” Ichigo stopped in the middle of the path, hand gripped tightly around the phone. He knew that Renji could generally take care of himself, but he just couldn’t help being worried about the overly-aggressive redhead.

“I think his pride’s hurting more than anything; says he was too drunk to remember exactly what happened, but he thinks he lost. Judging by the way his face looks, I’d say he’s right. Actually, I was just about to go see him; you should meet me at his place.”

“Y-yeah…of course. See you in a few minutes.” Cutting off the call, Ichigo hurried to his car. Judging by the time of day, he’d never find a parking spot near Renji’s apartment; it’d be quicker for him to take his car home and walk the few blocks to meet Shuuhei.

Before long, he was approaching the older redhead’s home, spotting Shuuhei loitering near the building’s entrance. Ichigo waved briefly, catching the other man’s attention.

“Ichigo! How are you?”

“Yeah, not bad. But more importantly, how’s Renji?” Ichigo followed his friend up the steps, heading for Renji’s apartment. It took a few moments for Shuuhei to answer the question, the man clearly mulling over something in his mind.

Stopping in front of a familiar door, Shuuhei turned to Ichigo with a slight sigh. “He doesn’t look too good, and he’s pretty melancholy. But really, what would you expect: they were together for six years, and were friends for a Hell of a lot longer. It might take him a while to get over this.”

Thoroughly bummed out on his friend’s behalf, Ichigo nodded and watched as Shuuhei began to bang on Renji’s door.

“Red! C’mon, man, I just paid to get your door fixed, but I’ll kick it down again if you don’t open up.”

A muffled shout that sounded suspiciously like “ _bastard”_ came from inside the apartment, heavy footsteps gradually getting louder before Ichigo heard the sound of the lock turning. The door swung inwards to reveal a bedraggled-looking Renji, his hair thrown back in a messy ponytail and his face slightly bruised around his nose and eyes.

“What do you want this time?” The tone was flat and tired, and Ichigo caught the slightest flash of a missing tooth as Renji spoke. It wasn’t fun to see his normally cocky friend this down, his beaten appearance making the sight even more depressing. But Hell, at least Renji didn’t almost get disembowelled with a broken bottle…

“ _Fuck!”_ Ichigo accidentally cursed aloud, realising that he was heading- yet again- into dangerous territory. Forcing himself back into the present, the redhead looked up to see Renji glaring at him.

“Do I really look _that_ bad, Kurosaki? Thanks, man: that really means a lot to me…”

Ichigo rolled his eyes at his friend’s petulant behaviour. “No, _Abarai_ , I was thinking about…well, it doesn’t matter what I was thinking about. You _do_ look like Hell, though.”

Renji looked like he was about to snap until he caught sight of Ichigo’s small smirk, the taller redhead snorting and dropping his head. “You’re an ass, Ichi. Get in here, you two; you’re makin’ the place look untidy.”

Shuuhei and Ichigo followed Renji into the apartment, the injured man flopping back on the couch while his two friends took battered armchairs. “Sorry I ain’t got anything to offer you, but I haven’t really been in the mood to go shopping. Got a prick of a headache still.”

“That’s not a good sign, Ren. Have you been to the hospital?” Ichigo asked, his concerned doctor side coming through. He frowned when Renji let out a dry bark of laughter.

“Where d’ya think I woke up on Friday? They told me they came _this close_ to having t’pump my stomach, I drank that much…actually, I thought I might’ve seen you there.”

“Damn, Renji, if I had’ve known I would’ve come and seen you.” Ichigo couldn’t help but feel a little bad. One of his best friends had been lying in hospital with half his face rearranged, yet Ichigo hadn’t even _known_. He was such a shitty friend…

“Don’t worry about it, I probably would’ve just yelled at ya and told you to fuck off.” Renji’s lips quickly twisted up in a small, bitter smile before they fell again, the tattooed man groaning and carefully rubbing a hand over his eyes. Silence fell over the room for a while, Ichigo shifting uncomfortably in his chair, until Renji suddenly spoke up again.

“Ichigo…how did you know that you and Hime were just meant to be friends? Like, was it a sudden thing, or something else?” Shooting a surprised glance at the bigger redhead, Ichigo tried to figure out exactly where Renji was coming from with that question. Obviously it had something to do with Rukia, but… _what?_

“Uh…I guess I just sort of…knew. Took me a while to figure out that I didn’t love her _romantically_ , but she eventually started feeling the same way. I mean, she was…familiar, comfortable…but there was no _spark_ , y’know?”

“So the fact that you’re into men had nothing to do with it?” Shuuhei asked innocently enough; but Ichigo still glared at the normally-tactful man.

“You’re _what?”_ Renji asked, the question drowned out by Ichigo diving across the room at the shocked-looking Shuuhei, angrily shouting, “ _I am **not** gay!”_

Renji just stared as two of his closest friends started wrestling on the floor, Ichigo clearly trying to get a good hit in and Shuuhei clearly trying to subdue the redhead without causing any damage. It took a while, but Shuuhei eventually claimed victory, pinning the other man to the floor.

“Fine, you’re not gay. You’re bisexual. Can I let you up now without you attempting to tear my throat out?”

Ichigo grumbled against the carpet of Renji’s apartment, finally managing to turn his head and speak. “Yes, Shuuhei, you can let me up… _bastard_.”

The dark-haired male promptly sat up, returning to his chair with only a slight flush to his cheeks. Finally freed, Ichigo also stood, brushing himself down and muttering to himself as he sat down and scowled.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Renji interjected. “You like _cock_ , Ichigo?”

The smaller redhead wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or try to beat the shit out of Shuuhei again.

\--------------------------------------------

Several hours and one rather embarrassed redhead later, Ichigo and Shuuhei stepped back out onto the street. Ichigo was about to head off when a firm hand gripped his shoulder, gently turning him around. Looking back at Shuuhei, the redhead noticed how serious the other man’s expression was.

“What’s up, Shuu?”

“Listen, Ichigo…I’m sorry about what I said, but…I thought that it might help Renji get his mind off Rukia for a little while. I shouldn’t have outed you to him.”

Ichigo felt his indignant mood dissolving at Shuuhei’s genuine apology, the reason for the man’s behaviour something that the redhead couldn’t remain mad about. Now that he thought about it, Renji _had_ made a few small smiles as Ichigo attempted to give away as little as possible about his sexual preferences; he couldn’t be selfish and stay angry at Shuuhei when all the man had wanted to do was cheer his friend up a little.

“…That’s okay, Shuuhei. He would’ve found out eventually; besides, Rangiku and Yumi have probably told everyone they know. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad already knows and has some stupid “Hooray, You’re Gay” party planned for next time I go back there.”

The relieved smile on the other man’s face dissipated the last of Ichigo’s anger, and he let his lips curl up the slightest bit. “I’d better go, got a crazy assignment to finish; was good to see you- _and_ Renji- though. I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure you don’t want a lift, Ichigo?” Shuuhei asked, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. The redhead glanced up at the darkening sky, noting the lack of heavy clouds. “Nah, it’s a nice evening. I’ll be right to walk.”

“Alright, see you.” Waving, the dark-haired man turned away, walking in the opposite direction to Ichigo. The redhead shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans, beginning the short trip back home.

He hadn’t gone more than a block, though, when he heard a quiet, calm voice say his surname. Quickly placing the voice’s owner, Ichigo barely managed to silence his groan of frustration. He turned around, scowling as he greeted the other man.

“Tsukishima.” Or, more correctly, Shuukurou Tsukishima: a man that Ichigo had slept with once the previous year. He hadn’t realised when going into the one-night-stand that he’d come out of it with an occasional stalker. Tsukishima was odd in that he rarely attempted to bother Ichigo, but when he did appear, he would always hit on the redhead.

He got rejected every time, and that was when he’d get his idiot friends to try and start something.

“Kurosaki, that rather attractive young man wouldn’t happen to be your latest boyfriend, would he?” The long-haired man looked emotionless, towering over Ichigo as he took a step closer. Not intimidated in the least, Ichigo scowled at the cold man, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, he isn’t. Not that it’s any of your business: I _really_ don’t appreciate you putting yourself into my life like this. Now, I’m going home.” Attempting to turn away, Ichigo winced when a rough hand closed painfully around his bicep, right over the scar he’d received from his last altercation with Tsukishima and his friends. Obviously, the tall man wasn’t about to give up that easily.

“Now, Ichigo, I’ve decided not to give you a choice in the matter this time. _When_ you lose to me, I will simply take what I want. I just supposed that I should give you fair warning of that.” Face still emotionless, even with the atrocities he was threatening, Tsukishima raised his free hand and snapped his fingers, releasing Ichigo and stepping back as his two friends approached.

The redhead lowered himself into a fighting pose, knowing that he could take these guys on. He hadn’t lost to them yet, and now that he knew _exactly_ what Tsukishima’s plans were, he realised that he couldn’t start losing now. Taking a step back to better prepare himself, Ichigo watched the two men warily: they usually just jumped straight into it like the stupid mongrels they were, but now they were taking their time, playing with him.

As focused as he was on the pair in front of him, Ichigo only noticed the third, _unexpected_ assailant when it was too late for him to react. Strong hands grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his torso. Before he could kick out, the person behind him forced them both to the ground, his first two attackers crowding in and helping to keep the redhead against the footpath.

Furious that he’d been taken down so easily, Ichigo struggled as much as he possibly could; but it was three against one, and he couldn’t get any leverage to throw out an attack. One of the hands holding him grabbed a chunk of his hair, using the grip to force his head up and then back into the ground. Bright sparks exploded behind his eyes with a flash of pain, but Ichigo forced himself to remain silent even as the motion was repeated. He wouldn’t give Tsukishima the satisfaction of hearing him scream. He’d find a way out of this. He _couldn’t_ let that fucker take him…

A third hit against the ground, and the redhead’s world was quickly fading; this time, though, he couldn’t hold back his shout of pain.

He didn’t know what he could do to save himself.

\--------------------------------------------

Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair, spiking it back up after a day of wearing an ugly construction helmet. The top part of his wound pulled from the action, but he ignored it: no pissy scratch was going to stop him from doing whatever the Hell he wanted.

He supposed that he should just be glad that he was a site supervisor, and so could avoid doing anything _too_ physical while he healed up completely. Dammit, if that tattooed bastard had caused him to get fired because he couldn’t work, Grimmjow knew that he would’ve hunted the guy down and torn him into pieces.

As it was, he was still pretty pissed.

Shoving his wallet, keys and phone back into his pocket, Grimmjow walked off the site and into the street. If he remembered correctly, there was a service station a couple of blocks down: he was craving a cigarette something _awful_. A streetlight flickered on as Grimmjow passed, the sky quickly darkening as the sun went down.

The area was deathly quiet, no people walking the streets and only the occasional car passing through; Grimmjow found the silence relaxing. It’d been a long day, and he just wanted to go home. But it was a nice night, and he figured that a quick walk to grab a pack of smokes wouldn’t hurt.

Passing under another streetlight, Grimmjow paused when a sudden scream broke through the silent night. It sounded close; _real_ close. Shrugging it off as irrelevant to himself, Grimmjow started on his way again, but before he’d taken more than a few steps a cold voice made him whip around.

“Oh, Kurosaki. Taken down so easily…honestly, I expected more from you. If I didn’t already know what you were capable of, I’d deem you below me; but as it stands, I’m still going to have you.”

_Kurosaki_ …that name stirred something in Grimmjow’s mind. He couldn’t quite place it, but something told him that he should go and check out what was happening. If anything, he might get a good laugh out of it.

Leisurely crossing the street, he wandered in the direction of the noise. As he got closer, he could vaguely make out a couple of figures crouching on the ground while another stood in front of them.

Then, one of the figures on the ground moved, and Grimmjow saw a flash of orange that stuck out even in the fading light.

‘ _Ah, shit,’_ he thought, ‘ _Kurosaki was the Schoolboy’s last name, wasn’t it. He looks pretty outnumbered...’_

Sighing tiredly, as if it would barely be worth the effort, Grimmjow walked right up to the standing man and tapped him on the shoulder. Grimmjow lashed out as soon as the tall man turned, his fist nailing the guy right across the cheek. It was a little awkward hitting at an upward angle, but Grimmjow had beaten the shit out of Nnoitra enough to be used to it; and that bastard would’ve towered over _this_ bastard.

The stranger stumbled backwards, the men on the ground- who Grimmjow could now see were pinning the Schoolboy- suddenly becoming alert to the new threat. Stepping forward and landing another punch in the tall man’s stomach, Grimmjow shoved the man to the ground and spat next to his face.

“Get the fuck outta here. All of you. I ever see you around him again, and I’ll shove my foot up each of your asses.” Crossing his arms over his chest, hands pushing out his bicep muscles, Grimmjow glared at the men. “Well?”

The tall man staggered to his feet, clicking his fingers. “Kurosaki isn’t worth this. Good luck when he throws _you_ aside like all the rest.”

The men on the ground stood uncertainly, warily watching the blue-haired man. It was only when the tall man, whom Grimmjow assumed to be the leader, started to walk away that the others followed, one shooting a vicious glare over his shoulder.

Cracking his neck to each side, Grimmjow jabbed Ichigo’s still form with the toe of his work boot. “Oi, Schoolboy. Get up."

The redhead let out a deep groan, but didn’t move. After standing by him for almost half a minute, Grimmjow finally crouched down and flipped the other man onto his back. The sight of blood dripping from just above the redhead’s eyebrow was slightly worrying, as was the disoriented look in Ichigo’s eyes; Grimmjow rubbed at his temple before lightly slapping the other man’s cheek.

“If I’m gonna move you, I need you t’help me out. Looks like you might have a concussion, so it’d be better for you t’be off the street, and I can’t carry you with my chest all torn up. C’mon, wake up a bit, idiot.” After a bit of shaking, a little more focus came into Ichigo’s eyes, and he sleepily muttered, “Grimmjow?”

“No, it’s your fairy godmother. Course it’s me, dumbass. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Wedging one arm under the smaller man’s waist, Grimmjow felt his stitches pull as he dragged the redhead up. Luckily, it didn’t seem like anything snapped or pulled _too_ far, and the ache in his chest lessened once they were both standing, Ichigo’s head lolling on his shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Grimmjow muttered as he wrapped an arm around the redhead’s waist and coaxed him into taking small steps. “Guy goes for a pack of smokes and ends up havin’ to take care of an idiot. He probably still won’t even let me fuck ‘im.”

Continuing to grumble under his breath, Grimmjow slowly walked the med student towards his car. Although it would’ve been easier, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave the redhead behind on the street.

‘ _Damn sense of honour…’_


	4. The Sleep

Ichigo’s eyes snapped open when something cracked against his cheek, leaving a stinging sensation that made him scowl. For a spilt second, he thought that he was back in his father’s house, and the man was giving him the violent wake-up he’d become accustomed to; but then he remembered that his father would never have _slapped_ him.

A flying drop-kick was more the insane doctor’s style.

Opening his eyes, the immediate thought that came to Ichigo’s mind was that he had one _Hell_ of a headache. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he was surprised to feel an adhesive bandage of some kind stretching across the skin; gently prodding the area with his fingers, he winced at the sharp sting the pressure provoked.

“You tear that open again, and you’ll be the one fixin’ it.”

The redhead jumped at the sound of the voice, only now realising that not only did he have company, he had absolutely no idea where he was. The bed he was laying in wasn’t one he could say he’d ever been in before, and nothing in the room was familiar; nothing, that was, until he spotted the source of the voice.

There, standing by the side of the bed with an arrogant smile on his face, was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Ichigo glared at the man, suspicion written all over his features. “What do you think you’re doing, Jaegerjaquez? Where am I?

With a mocking laugh, the blue-haired man bent down so that his face hovered just above Ichigo’s. “Why, you’re in the clutches of the Big Bad Wolf, aren’t you, Little Red Riding Hood?”

Snarling, Ichigo acted on infuriated instinct alone: his left fist swung out with less force than he would have liked, clipping Grimmjow’s jaw and making the man jerk back in surprise. He doubted that his punch would even leave a mark, though.

“ _Fuck,_ Kurosaki, see if I get your ass out of a four-on-one beatdown ever again. You should be _glad_ that I dragged your stupid carcass off the street, let alone patched you up and made sure you didn’t kick the bucket by sleepin’ too long with a concussion. Seriously, I’m gonna…”

Ichigo didn’t hear most of Grimmjow’s rant, having zoned out somewhere around the words “four-on-one beatdown”. His most recent memories began flooding back, reminding him of how he’d left Renji’s place and said goodbye to Shuuhei, only to be pulled up by…

_Tsukishima_. And then the bastard has said…something…

Ichigo sat up in shock as his foggy mind started to clear, the taller man’s cold threat coming back to him.

_‘When you lose to me, I will simply take what I want.’_

And, if he remembered rightly, he _had_ lost. He’d stupidly let his guard down, relied on previous encounters instead of focusing on what had been happening around him. But did that mean…

Feeling the slightest flash of fear, Ichigo shifted his weight around, trying to determine if he was sore anywhere other than his head. There was no pain that would indicate he’d been taken by force, and his mouth didn’t taste like anything out of the ordinary; the redhead’s relief was immense.

Still, why was Grimmjow there? Ichigo didn’t remember seeing him before one of Tsukishima’s idiot lapdogs had started beating his head into the ground…

“…And Goddammit, it’s not like I even give a shit. You got that?"

“Whatever, psycho.” Ichigo waved off Grimmjow’s rant…not that he’d heard most of it. He was too busy thinking about…wait, _what the **fuck**?_

Lashing out, Ichigo twisted his hand in the front of Grimmjow’s T-shirt, pulling the man towards him. His fingers connected with the healing wound down Grimmjow’s torso, but he didn’t feel bad about the tiny wince of pain that the man showed.

“Where are we, and why the _fuck_ are you here, Jaegerjaquez?”

Rolling his eyes, the tall man pried the redhead’s fingers from his shirt, gripping his wrist a little tighter than necessary before dropping it back to the bed. “You’re in my apartment, so I reckon even an idiot like you can figure out the answer to the second question.”

Ichigo scowled harder at the rude answer, but the movement of his forehead caused whatever was under that bandage to start hurting again. He sat up a bit straighter in the bed- _‘Oh, shit, this better not be **Grimmjow’s** bed’-_ and crossed his arms.

“Alright, smartass, here’s another one for you: Why am _I_ here?”

“’Cause I heard you screamin’ like a little girl when a bunch a’ guys jumped you real good. Got ‘em off ya, thought you might’ve had a concussion from the bleeding mess on ya forehead, so I brought you here. Ya fell asleep two hours ago, figured I should wake ya.” Grimmjow shrugged, as if this was something he did everyday.

Somehow, though, Ichigo severely doubted that.

“…You didn’t think to take me to the hospital?”

“Has anyone ever told ya that you’re an ungrateful little shit? Anyway, I’ve dealt with more than a few concussions in my time, and you weren’t bleedin’ _that_ badly…plus, here was a lot closer than the freakin’ hospital.”

Ichigo could pick out a _million_ flaws in that logic, but he really didn’t feel like arguing. Still, he was too alert and aware to have a concussion; he figured he would be fine to escape Grimmjow now, before the man could start hitting on-…

“’Sides, I figured you’d wake up in my bed and realise just how much ya want me in there with you.”

“ _That’s it_ ,” Ichigo hissed, swinging his legs off the bed he had been laying on top of. “I made it perfectly clear that I don’t want you, so I think it’s time I got out of here.”

Starting to stand up, he fought through a wave of nausea, proud of himself when he managed to get on his feet without holding onto anything. He didn’t need help, and he _especially_ didn’t need it from some blue-haired asshole. He was going home.

“Yeah, the thing about that, y’see, is…no. I didn’t patch you up just to see you go walkin’ off again and let those pricks finish the job. Doesn’t look like ya got a concussion, but it’s practically the middle of the night.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, wary of why the dickhead was suddenly being so… _nice_ , in an utterly stupid way. “I thought you were just mouthing off about the fact that you _didn’t_ care.”

Grimmjow grinned, wider than Ichigo had seen so far. It was actually a little…manic.

“Well, y’know, I don’t care. I’m just not into necrophilia, so it’d be better if you lived.”

“I’m out.” Throwing his hands in the air, Ichigo walked out of the room. He heard Grimmjow’s fast footsteps coming up behind him, and had to duck away from the arm that tried to wrap around his shoulders. “Don’t touch me, Jaegerjaquez.”

“But you’re just so _cute_ ,” Grimmjow mocked, ruffling Ichigo’s already-messy hair. The apartment wasn’t large, and the redhead could easily tell where the front door was, so rather than lashing out he simply walked for the exit.

Before he could open the door, though, he found his way blocked by an idiot.

“ _Move_ ,” Ichigo sighed in frustration. He briefly considered punching Grimmjow in the chest, right over his stitches, but decided against it on the basis that the man _had_ bandaged him up. He might have been a grumpy bastard, but he knew to give credit where it was due.

“Oh, ya thought I was joking? Schoolboy, you ain’t walking outta here until tomorrow. Like I said, I don’t want the time I spent fixin’ you to be wasted.”

“I have school tomorrow morning.”

“…And?”

The pain in Ichigo’s head spiked, and a sudden wave of dizziness had him flailing out to grab something, _anything_ , before he hit the deck. Unluckily for him, that something just happened to be the arms Grimmjow had crossed over his chest.

“See? You’re stayin’ here for the night. Only question is, you gonna walk back to the bedroom, or ‘m I gonna carry your ass?”

As soon as his dizzy spell subsided, Ichigo wrenched his hands away from Grimmjow and glanced around the room. The front door wasn’t an option: he couldn’t get past Grimmjow when he could barely walk straight. The windows weren’t any good, either. From the looks of it, he was on the third or fourth floor; even a night in this _Hellhole_ was better than a broken neck from a messy jump.

As much as Ichigo hated to admit it, he was stuck. He couldn’t even call someone to come rescue him, because he had no fucking clue where he was. It wasn’t a situation he wanted to be in, but he was stuck with a perverted, possibly _insane,_ blue-haired motherfucker.

If he stayed here, chances were he’d either wake up with a cock shoved in his ass, or he just…wouldn’t wake up at all. Then again…Grimmjow _had_ gotten him away from Tsukishima, and from what the man had said, he’d already slept a few hours and been fine…

With extreme reluctance, Ichigo nodded. “Fine. But don’t even _think_ about trying anything.”

“Would I do something like that?” Grimmjow asked, the devious smile on his face answer enough. Ichigo just glared at him.

“Ugh. Do you have a couch? I’ll stay there, since you’re forcing me into this _shit_.”

Laughing, Grimmjow shook his head. “I do, but I don’t hate ya enough to make ya sleep on that piece of crap.” Ichigo went to say something, but Grimmjow cut him off. “And I don’t _like_ ya enough to sleep on it myself. Whether you like it or not, we’re sharin’.”

“Then I’m lea-…”

“Shut up. _Fuck_ me, do you always bitch this much?”

Ichigo didn’t bother to prolong the childish argument, instead scowling at Grimmjow before turning on his heel and stomping back to the bedroom. He didn’t want to do this: jumping out the window was starting to look like a good idea. But his head hurt, he was still a little dizzy, and the bed _had_ been rather comfortable.

‘ _Plus, as far as looks go, you could be sharing with someone a **lot** worse…’_

The redhead immediately chastised himself for that thought, not wanting to enter that territory at all, let alone when he was about to share a bed with a _total stranger_. A slight case of nerves hit him as he entered the bedroom again, the realisation of what he’d been pressured into truly coming forward; but he fought it back.

Acting like a wimp was _not_ something he wanted to do in front of an arrogant ass like Grimmjow. It was bad enough that the man had seen him lose a fight.

“If you touch me _even once_ , I’ll beat the shit out of you, okay?” Ichigo hissed as he walked up to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and glaring suspiciously up at the taller man.

“Alright, Schoolboy. Just remember that the same _doesn’t_ apply t’ you.” Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Grimmjow pulled it off as Ichigo sat there, stuck between looking away and staring. He’d seen the man’s chest before, had _touched_ it as he wound the bandages around, but it was…different under the bedroom lighting, much softer than the harsh hospital lights.

If Grimmjow noticed Ichigo’s dilemma, he didn’t comment. Throwing the shirt into a corner, he undid his belt and let his loose jeans fall to the floor, kicking them in the general direction of his shirt. Ichigo, to his horror, blushed and quickly turned away.

“W-…what are you doing?”

“Uh…I’m undressin’ for bed. You can sleep fully dressed if ya really want, but I ain’t doing that shit.” Clad only in a pair of black boxers, Grimmjow joined Ichigo on the bed, pulling back the covers and settling onto the mattress.

Still purposely not watching the mostly-naked man, Ichigo considered his options. It would be more comfortable to strip down…but he’d probably have a better chance of remaining unmolested if he kept all his clothes on.

And there was no way he was taking his cell phone and keys out of his pocket- just in case.

Lying back on the bed as well, the redhead made sure to face away from Grimmjow, staying on his side as far from the other man as he could manage. He was _not_ going to risk getting closer to the man, and the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could wake up from this living _nightmare_.

He felt the mattress shift, Grimmjow leaning over to hit a switch on the wall. The room instantly became dark, and the bed shifted slightly again as Grimmjow got comfortable.

“Night, Schoolboy.”

“Shut up, bastard.”

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was sure it’d been more than an hour and he was nowhere _near_ sleep. Judging by what he could hear of Grimmjow’s breathing, he guessed that the other man was also still awake.

He wasn’t entirely sure why, but Ichigo suddenly got the urge to ask something that had been vaguely bothering him. Before he could filter himself, though, he felt his mouth start moving.

“…Jaegerjaquez?”

“…Uh huh?” Came the slightly sleepy-sounding reply. Maybe Grimmjow hadn’t been quite as awake as he’d though. Oh well, it was too late now…

“I heard that the cops came and spoke to you when you were at the hospital. Are you pressing charges on the guy who cut you?” Why that had grabbed his curiosity, Ichigo wasn't sure. But while he couldn’t really picture Grimmjow as a victim, he didn’t really see the guy as the kind of person who would let a giant wound down his torso go without revenge, either…

“Nah. I told ‘em exactly where they could stick their shitty questions.”

“What? Why? You could’ve died from an injury like that.” Ichigo mentally kicked himself. It was his doctor side coming out again, but it almost sounded like he was _concerned_. What did it matter to him, how Grimmjow chose to live his life?

There was a slight yawn from behind him, and the mattress shifted again with a rustle of sheets before Grimmjow eventually spoke.

“Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever cannot take care of himself without that law is both. For a wounded man shall say to his assailant, ‘If I die, you are forgiven. If I live, I will kill you.’ _That’s_ why.”

The sheer _belief_ in Grimmjow’s tone momentarily shocked Ichigo into silence, his mind running over the sentiment. Even his diction had changed during the speech, with none of his usual carefree drawl coming through. It had sounded strangely… _good_.

“…That was actually pretty cool. Where’d you get it from?”

“It’s an ancient rule of honour. Y’know, the kinda thing that got passed down in warrior families and shit like that.”

“Really?” Ichigo asked in disbelief. Maybe the blue-haired man actually wasn't the idiot he’d originally seemed…

A snort of laughter made the redhead’s back stiffen. “Tch, no. I got it from a metal song.”

Feeling immensely stupid for blindly believing _anything_ Grimmjow had said, Ichigo curled up tighter on his side with an indignant huff. “Should’ve realised that you wouldn’t know anything that might have required a _book_.”

“Ouch. You burn me, Schoolboy,” Grimmjow replied, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “Any more questions, or can I go the fuck to sleep?”

“Shut up.” Ichigo was pissed at Grimmjow for being an idiot, at himself for getting into this, and at the entire world for, well, existing.

“Hey, you started it.”

“Fuck off, Jaegerjaquez.”

“Yeah, yeah, love ya too, Schoolboy.”

Unable to come up with a proper retort to _that_ particular bit of ridiculousness, Ichigo shut both his mouth and his eyes, hoping that sleep would finally come.

Eventually, as he heard Grimmjow’s breathing start to calm down and even out, it did.


	5. I Can't Hide

He felt like shit.

That was the first thing Ichigo realised as he slowly woke up, still ridiculously tired. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and…why was he laying on his stomach? His neck was pressed awkwardly to the side, and _that_ hurt too.

And, to top it all off, his shoulder felt incredibly stiff from the way his arm was stretched out sideways…

Across something rather warm. And kind of taut, like…

_‘Oh, fuck…’_

Ripping his arm back to the side of his body, Ichigo slowly rolled over, making sure to turn _away_ from the man next to him. He was so close that he could feel Grimmjow shaking, most probably from laughter; but he _really_ didn’t want to look at Grimmjow and check.

Still facing a white wall, Ichigo stayed silent while he tried to figure out what he could do. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know _when_ it was, and he was in bed with an overzealous pervert.

…Maybe turning so that his ass was facing the man wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had…

Flipping onto his back, Ichigo tentatively pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Comfortable night, Schoolboy?”

“Shut up. Just…shut up.”

“Awww, and here I was, thinkin’ you’d warmed up t’me. Didn’t take ya long to cuddle up, after all.” Without opening his eyes, Ichigo lifted his arm and slammed it down, catching the blue-haired man across the stomach.

Grimmjow inhaled sharply, and it was only then that Ichigo remembered the line of stitches running right down Grimmjow’s stomach.

Sitting bolt upright, the redhead immediately shifted up onto his knees, prying the other man’s hands from his stomach so that he could see the damage. There didn’t seem to be any blood, and Ichigo gently prodded around the stitches to make sure none had pulled; luckily, his hit was weak enough that nothing looked damaged.

He still felt kinda bad, though, after the man had gotten him away from Tsukishima and all of that.

“You mighta damaged something a bit lower, you wanna check that out, too?”

…Okay, _now_ he didn’t feel bad at all. Ichigo turned around and stood up, making sure to go slow enough that he didn’t immediately become light-headed and fall down. He was still fully dressed, which he was glad about, and he quickly checked that his wallet and cell were still in his pockets.

Satisfied, the redhead started for the door, pausing but not looking back when a smooth voice called out. “Leavin’ so soon?”

Material shifted, and Ichigo heard soft footsteps coming up behind him. Without bothering to answer, the younger man walked out of the room, following his vague memories to find the front door. Grimmjow kept shadowing him, even though he gave him no recognition.

“Do ya even know where you are?” Grimmjow asked, his tone heavy with humour. There were another few seconds of silence before Ichigo finally decided to answer the other man.

“No, and I don’t really care. I just want to go home.” The redhead spotted the front door, speeding his pace as he headed for freedom. He had a decent grasp of the city, and he figured that he could find _something_ he recognised once he hit the street. If worst came to worst, he could always find a street name and call Shuuhei to pick him up.

“Alright, but if ya get beaten up _this_ time, I ain’t gonna save ya.”

“I don’t need your help, Jaegerjaquez. Goodbye.” Reaching the door, Ichigo swung it open, stepping outside without looking back. He started to shut the door when a large hand snaked out and grabbed it, making Ichigo look over his shoulder on pure reflex.

Through the partially-open space, he could see Grimmjow lazily leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing across his features. The man was still dressed in only his boxers, his hair sleep-mussed and falling into his eyes.

Ichigo swallowed hard: he _hated_ to admit it, but the guy looked hot. It was too bad that he was a complete asshole…

Shaking his head a little, the younger man sighed and turned back to face the hall.

“Don’t let the door hit your ass,” Grimmjow drawled, and Ichigo ignored him. He couldn’t help but give a surprised shout, though, when a hand suddenly cracked across his ass, Grimmjow’s loud laughter becoming muffled when he hastily slammed the door shut.

Ichigo spent a good few moments standing in the hall, fuming, as he resisted the urge to break Grimmjow’s door in and beat the shit out of the guy; but his head gave a painful twinge, and he started towards the lift.

The dull pain in his forehead prevented too much heavy thought as he waited for the steel doors of the lift to open, and he focused on the ache as he made the quick trip down to the ground floor. He was determined not to linger on anything that had happened after he’d left Renji’s.

Walking out into the street, Ichigo looked around for anything that looked familiar. He sighed in relief when he realised that he was still only a few blocks from Renji’s…and then groaned when it clicked that it meant Grimmjow lived relatively close to him.

Easily within walking distance.

Grumbling to himself, Ichigo shoved his hands into his pockets and began the trip home, vaguely taking note of which streets he was taking. He’d just turned onto his apartment’s road when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, the ringer still on silent from the previous day’s classes.

Glancing at the screen, he saw that he was getting a call from Rangiku, and he reluctantly accepted the connection.

“Hi,” he greeted, knowing that the woman would quickly take control of the conversation.

“Ichigo!” Came the enthusiastic reply, and the redhead found himself holding his phone away from his ear to save his hearing. “You’re coming to lunch on Friday. Two p.m. at Urahara’s.”

There was no mistaking Rangiku’s order for an invitation: Ichigo knew from experience that if he refused, he’d been getting calls every ten minutes. And when he stopped picking up, she’d take to waiting at his door…and hitting on most of his neighbours who were unlucky enough to walk past at the time.

That woman got damned determined about the stupidest things.

“Alright. Can I ask why, though?”

“Welllll…” Rangiku replied indecisively, “I guess you won’t tell anyone…”

Ichigo frowned. He had a bad feeling about this.

“We’re gonna get Renji and Rukia back together!”

…And there it was. He thought back to Renji’s uncertain question about the end of his own relationship with Orihime, and immediately decided that this was a terrible idea.

“No.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, but it was merely the calm before the storm. “What do you mean, _no_?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes as he let himself into the front door of his apartment building, quietly closing the door behind him. “I mean exactly that. I’m not having anything to do with this.”

He swore that he could practically _hear_ Rangiku pouting on the other end of the line, but he wasn’t about to budge on this. He wouldn’t fuck with two of his best friends, regardless of what Rangiku might do to _him_ because of it.

“But _Ichigo_ -“

“ _No_.” Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Ichigo wondered whether he should just hang up now. It was like dealing with a five-year-old…

“… _Fine_.”

“What?” Ichigo asked, confused. Rangiku wouldn’t give in that easily…would she?

“I won’t try anything. Actually, Renji’s kinda hot…reckon he’d be up for a rebound fuck?”

Ichigo froze, speechless, before he started laughing quietly. It was just the sort of thing that the woman would do: Ichigo could- objectively- admit that Renji was good-looking, but he’d been with Rukia for as long as Rangiku had known him. She probably _had_ been waiting for her moment to pounce.

“Anyway, you coming to lunch? I promise I won’t do anything.”

The redhead finally managed to get himself under control, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah. But are you really gonna put Renji and Rukia in the same room?”

“Ah, ah, ah, Kurosaki, you leave the scheming to me. Just be at Urahara’s on Friday. Two o’clock. Bye!”

“See-…” Ichigo trailed off as the dial tone started up.

Reaching his front door, Ichigo shook his head and sighed. This _really_ wouldn’t end well.

\--------------------------------------------

At a quarter past two on Friday, Ichigo walked into Urahara’s, dreading whatever Rangiku had cooked up. The place was a nice little café-bar, owned by a friend of his father’s; it wasn’t a surprise that Rangiku had chosen a place with a ready supply of booze for a Friday afternoon meal.

Most of his friends were lucky enough to be free by that time of the week: even Renji usually only had to do half a day on Friday, and his boss was _kind_ of a dick. But he’d heard that the man was on sick leave this week anyway, so maybe Renji would have crawled out of his apartment for one of the first times since his fight.

Hearing someone shout his name, Ichigo walked towards the back of the shop, onto a small patio area. He nodded a greeting to his friends, taking a mental checklist of who was there: Shuuhei, Chad and Izuru were up one end of the table, while Rangiku, Orihime, Rukia and Tatsuki were at the other. Ichigo slid into the empty seat directly in front of him, looking up to see a rather unhappy-looking Rangiku across the table.

He figured that it probably had something to do with the absence of a certain tattooed redhead. Rangiku always hated it when her plans failed.

“What happened to your face, Ichigo?”

Ichigo mentally cursed as Tatsuki immediately noticed the still-healing cut on his forehead, and he self-consciously raised a hand to it.

“N-nothing serious. I tripped and hit my head.” He winced at the pitiful excuse: he sounded like an abused housewife, but he didn’t particularly feel like explaining about Tsukishima and Grimmjow.

…At least he hadn’t said that he’d walked into a _door_ …

Glancing around, he saw that no one seemed to believe him. Waving his friends off before they could keep asking questions, he picked up a menu to hide behind.

Conversation gradually built back up around him, but Ichigo kept his head buried, waiting for everyone to lose all interest in him. Because of his position, he didn’t notice Rangiku’s eyes widening before she quickly pulled her low-cut top even further down her chest; and the conversation that Tatsuki and Orihime were having beside him drowned out the sound of the patio door closing.

The only warning that Ichigo got about the newest arrival at their table was the arm that slipped around his shoulders, and the warm breath that tickled his ear as a deep voice spoke.

“I _thought_ that was you walkin’ past…how’s the head, Schoolboy?”

\--------------------------------------------

Two days after shutting his door behind Ichigo and nearly killing himself from laughter, Grimmjow was casually sprawled out on his couch, napping through the first half of his rostered day off.

Blue eyes slowly opened as a tinny guitar riff suddenly blared from a cell phone speaker, and Grimmjow pulled the device from his pocket, not bothering to look at the screen as he flipped it open.

“S’up?”

“Grimm, Lily’s making me take her out. Come and…keep her entertained or somethin’, will you?” On the other end of the line, Starrk yawned loudly, making Grimmjow smirk.

His lazy-ass friend could never handle the ridiculous ball of energy that was his youngest sister alone. It wasn’t uncommon for Grimmjow to get a call like this, and he usually got a free meal out of it, so he was generally okay with helping Starrk out.

“Well…I’m not doin’ anything…so alright. What does she wanna do today?”

“Think she wants t’go shopping or something. Typical girl shit.”

“Alright. You gonna swing ‘round and pick me up?” Standing up, Grimmjow stretched his arms out, feeling his joints shift slightly. It felt _good_.

A drawn-out sigh came from his older friend, followed by an annoyed grumble. “Fine. We’ll be there in half an hour.”

“See ya.” Closing his phone, Grimmjow tucked it back into his jeans, idly scratching at his bare stomach as he tried to hunt down a relatively clean shirt. He eventually found a white graphic tee flung over the back of a chair, and he shook it out, quickly checking for marks. Deciding it was okay, he slipped into it and walked towards his bathroom.

Picking up a well-used tube of hair gel, the man lightly covered his fingers with the stuff, running them through his hair and pulling the blue strands into messy spikes. It didn’t take him long to get the look right, and he was soon sitting on the stairs of his building, lighting a cigarette while he waited for his friend to pull up.

Fifteen minutes later, a classic Falcon rolled up in front of him, and Grimmjow stood, dropping his half-smoked butt on the ground and stamping it out. The front seat of the car folded forward and Lilynette was suddenly hanging out the back window, smiling widely.

“Hey, Grimm!”

“Lily, Starrk,” Grimmjow greeted, opening the passenger door and sliding into the recently-vacated seat. His friend just waved his hand once, not bothering to turn away from the road as he pulled back into the street.

“So, what’re we doin’?” Grimmjow asked, turning his neck to look at Lilynette from the corner of his eye. The girl grinned at him, bouncing a little in her seat as she began to list things off.

“Well, first we’re gonna shop for new shoes, and I need some new dresses, and some new make-up, and I want…”

\--------------------------------------------

Three hours later, an excited Lilynette, an exhausted Starrk and an amused Grimmjow walked into a small café, some place that the girl had been to with her friends. Grimmjow couldn’t say that he’d ever even seen the store before, but it _looked_ alright, and it seemed to be doing pretty good business.

“Why, hello! What can I do for you today?” A man wearing a long, green jacket and a striped hat- _indoors_ , of all places- suddenly popped up, a pile of menus in his hands. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, but Lilynette just laughed gleefully.

“We’d like some lunch, please.”

“Of course! You can sit just there.” And as suddenly as he’d appeared, the oddly-dressed man was off again, resurfacing next to a couple on the other side of the room. Sitting at the offered table, Grimmjow relaxed into his chair and zoned out slightly, going into auto-pilot as he answered Lilynette’s pointless questions and scanned through the menu.

It was only when he caught a flash of orange in the corner of his eye that he fell back into the real world, his grin widening as he spotted the source of the colour.

‘ _Jackpot,’_ he thought, nudging Starrk with his elbow.

“…uh…what?” The older man asked tiredly, shaking himself out of a daze. Making sure to stay relatively quiet, Grimmjow gestured to the redhead swiftly making his way through the room.

“That’s the kid I dragged off the street Monday night.”

“…The one who was getting the shit beaten outta him?”

“Yeah.” Grimmjow had mentioned his unexpected houseguest to Starrk, though the man had thought him crazy for _voluntarily_ looking after someone else. But, as Grimmjow had explained, it hadn’t been about acting like a ‘responsible citizen’, whatever the fuck _that_ meant.

“No wonder you want in his pants,” Lilynette piped up, making two sets of eyes look at her.

“…What?” She asked, immediately feeling a little self-conscious. In reply, she received one careless shrug and one short bark of laughter, Grimmjow still smiling predatorily as he stood up from the table.

“I’ll be back in a couple a’ minutes, alright?”

Dodging between tables, Grimmjow silently thanked anything that was listening as he saw that Ichigo was sitting with his back to the patio door. He didn’t pay much attention to the people gathered around the redhead, but he _did_ notice that the woman sitting opposite Ichigo seemed to be staring at him.

The view of her cleavage was pretty good, but Grimmjow had another target in his sights. Maybe he’d go for the woman if he ever happened to see her again…she looked like _fun_.

Opening and closing the door as quietly as he possibly could, Grimmjow walked up behind Ichigo and slid his arm around the other man’s shoulder, making his voice as low and seductive as he could while he whispered in the redhead’s ear.

“I _thought_ that was you walkin’ past…how’s the head, Schoolboy?”


	6. I'll Cast a Shadow

Grimmjow struggled to hold back his laughter as Ichigo tensed up beneath his arm, the redhead stuttering as he tried to figure out what was happening to him. Unable to help himself, Grimmjow bit lightly at the seated man’s ear before ruffling his already messy hair.

Ichigo seemed utterly shell-shocked, which Grimmjow was a little glad about: it meant that the redhead wasn’t attempting to break his nose. Still trying not to laugh, he looked up at who he assumed were Ichigo’s friends, shooting them all a mischievous grin. They, too, looked a little freaked; except for the woman sitting directly across the table, who seemed a bit put out.

The redhead was still opening and closing his mouth, but he was starting to struggle and so Grimmjow tightened his grip. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to watch as the black-haired man next to Ichigo started to stand up.

The movement seemed to break Ichigo out of his trance, and brown eyes went even wider in horror. “Shuuhei, _don’t…_ ”

But the protest was ignored as the other man walked around the table and sat down in a chair next to the pouting chick, Grimmjow’s grin widening as he took up the obvious invitation and slid into the now-empty chair beside Ichigo. He let his hand trail across the redhead’s back as he moved, finally letting the smaller man out of his grip.

Ichigo whipped his head around and snarled at Grimmjow, hand clenching threateningly on the table’s surface. Grimmjow just laughed.

“You never look happy to see me, kid. D’ya want me to get that stick outta your ass for ya?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Ichigo exclaimed, finally lashing out with a backhanded palm that Grimmjow easily avoided. The redhead seemed to have forgotten that they had an audience, and the other man was more than happy to take advantage of the fact.

Dropping his voice to a seductive purr, Grimmjow leant in slightly- though not close enough that he couldn’t dodge another hit. “C’mon, Ichi. Play nice with me, and _I’ll_ play nice with you…”

There were another few seconds of stunned silence, Ichigo gaping at Grimmjow’s audacity, before an awkward cough suddenly reminded the redhead of the people sitting around him.

Slamming his palms down on the table, Ichigo slid his chair back and stood up, obviously intending to make a quick escape; but Grimmjow wasn’t having any of that. As soon as the med student stood up, he found a strong arm wrapping around his waist as he was pulled down onto Grimmjow’s lap.

“Aren’t you even gonna introduce me to your friends?” Grimmjow asked with a smirk. He was smart enough to let the struggling man go quickly, though: he didn’t need to cop any more hits to his torso. He figured he’d made his point.

As soon as he was free, Ichigo headed for the door. He stopped in his tracks, though, when a girl with shoulder-length black hair snapped at him.

“Ichigo, get back here _now_.”

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow when Ichigo slowly turned around, dropping back into his seat with a vicious scowl. What the _fuck_ was that all about? Clearly, that girl had Kurosaki by the balls…but hopefully not literally, Grimmjow thought with a low laugh.

Leaning back in his chair, Grimmjow waited for the inevitable questioning to start. It was pretty obvious that the people sitting around the table were curious as all fuck.

“Who’s this, Ichigo?” The same girl asked, in a much lighter tone this time. The redhead was now glaring at the table, and Grimmjow _thought_ it looked like he was blushing like crazy.

“He’s no one,” Ichigo muttered, much to Grimmjow’s amusement.

“ _Ichigo_ ,” the girl warned, eyes flashing dangerously. Even though she was sitting down, Grimmjow could tell that she was a fairly small girl; but it was pretty obvious that the redhead was a little scared of her.

“He’s _no one_ , and he’s _leaving_.”

“Oi, Blue. What’s your name?” Ichigo’s second refusal to answer was ignored by a different dark-haired girl, who leant back in her chair to look past Ichigo to Grimmjow. Taking in her short hair and slightly masculine outfit, Grimmjow vaguely wondered if she was a lesbian…but that wasn’t important.

“Grimmjow,” he answered shortly, smirking a little. He didn’t need to tell these people his life story: he just had to say enough to make sure that the redhead beside him was as uncomfortable as possible. The kid was just so _tempting_ when he was riled.

“Go _away_ , Jaegerjaquez,” Ichigo muttered again, still glaring at the table like it had kicked his puppy. But Grimmjow was nowhere near finished: he was already having too much fun to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Oh, Schoolboy. I just wanted t’know how you pulled up after the other night. Ya _did_ take one Hell of a pounding, after all…”

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo’s face felt so hot, he was surprised that he hadn’t caught on fire yet. The _nerve_ of Grimmjow to say something like that: it was obvious from the muffled giggling he could hear beside him that at least _some_ of his friends had caught the implication. The completely and utterly _false_ implication, at that!

He turned his head to level his furious scowl at the man next to him, but one glimpse of that mocking grin was enough to make his face burn even more. Giving up, he just allowed his forehead to hit the cool wood of the table.

“I think you broke him,” he heard Rangiku giggle, the woman probably preening and showing off as much cleavage as she could because of Grimmjow’s presence. Well, she could have him! It wasn’t as if Ichigo wanted the blue-haired annoyance around.

“Oh, believe me, he ain’t broken yet,” Grimmjow seemed to _purr_ in a low tone, “but just gimme a little time and I’ll see what I can do.”

The excited squeal that he heard from Rukia- who didn’t seem anywhere near as broken as Renji- was the final straw for Ichigo. Quickly standing, he grabbed the back of Grimmjow’s shirt and pulled, forcibly dragging the other man behind him as the chair fell noisily to the wooden decking. It was obvious, though, that Grimmjow wasn’t putting up too much of a fight: he quickly regained his footing, calmly walking backwards behind the fuming redhead.

Ichigo only tightened his grip as they walked through the café; he had almost made it to the door when a familiar figure jumped in front of him, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“Ichigoooo,” Kisuke Urahara started, drawing the final mora out teasingly. Not in the mood for the man’s usual bullshit, Ichigo attempted to step around him; but Urahara was faster, cutting the redhead off again.

“What the _fuck_ do you want?” Ichigo spat out, fingers clenching even tighter in the back of Grimmjow’s shirt. At the back of his mind, he registered a girlish voice across the room asking something that sounded like, “Who’s that with Grimmjow?”; but he ignored it, deeming it unimportant.

Urahara was just smirking at him, the man pulling his hat even lower to the point where his eyes were completely invisible. “You seemed rather close with this handsome gentleman out on the deck, Ichigo. Is there something that I should be telling Isshin, hmmm?”

At the mention of his father, Ichigo quickly released Grimmjow, as if he could erase Urahara’s suspicions just by getting Grimmjow out of his sight. He did _not_ need Urahara blabbing to his old man about Grimmjow. It wasn’t that he was worried about Isshin taking rumours of his son’s sexuality badly: he was worried that his father would take those rumours a little _too_ well. Shuddering slightly at the thought of his dad trying to prove that he was perfectly okay with Ichigo’s sexuality, the redhead shoved both hands into his pockets.

“It’s _nothing_ like that. Jaegerjaquez is a nuisance, and I’m taking him outside to beat the shit out of him. Didn’t think you’d want blood all over your deck.”

“Now, now, Ichigo, there’s no need to be so violent.” Urahara’s usual teasing lilt was there in full force, the tone grating on Ichigo’s last thread of self-control. It _certainly_ didn’t help that Grimmjow was still hovering just behind him, the man too close for comfort.

“Well, there _wouldn’t_ be, if he would just _leave. Me. Alone!”_

Forcibly moving Urahara aside, Ichigo strode out of the building and into the quiet street. He could hear footsteps behind him, presumably Grimmjow’s, but he ignored them. It was only when he’d made it all the way to where his car was parked by a kerb, the persistent stalker still following, that he turned around to confront the idiot.

As he’d suspected, Grimmjow was casually leaning against a lamp post, arms crossed with his hands subtly pushing out his biceps. Even in just jeans and a T-shirt, Grimmjow managed to look like he’d stepped out of a magazine; Ichigo found himself cursing the fact that the man was such an incorrigible _jerk_. If it wasn’t for the unwarranted arrogance and constant harassment, he’d probably be attracted to the guy.

“And you’re following me because…?”

Grimmjow tutted. “Is that any way t’treat the man who saved your ass?”

‘ _In more ways than one,’_ Ichigo thought with a flash of nausea. Rather than voicing that unpleasantness, he lashed out again. “They’ve always told me I’m ungrateful. Now get out of my sight.”

“But you forgot something, Schoolboy.” Grimmjow took a step forward, his eyes shining with mischief. Ichigo wanted to move backwards in response, but the car was already touching him. He was trapped.

Even though he knew Grimmjow was just messing with him, Ichigo quickly tapped his pockets for his wallet, keys and phone. They were both there. “Sorry to tell you this, but I’m not missing jack shit. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go.”

Turning his back on Grimmjow was a bad idea, even if it was just to walk around the car to the driver’s door. He didn’t make it very far before large hands grabbed his biceps, roughly spinning him and forcing him to press up against the car’s bonnet.

“You forgot _this_.”

That was all the warning Ichigo got before warm lips pressed against his own, the contact relatively short before Grimmjow’s tongue flicked out to lick at his bottom lips and the man pulled away. The entire thing was over in a matter of seconds, but Ichigo could only stare, motionless, as Grimmjow turned and walked away.

As if someone were slowly turning the volume up, Ichigo gradually became aware of the stream of curses that were running through his mind at full speed. He had half a mind to chase after the other man and beat him down, but the other part of him just wanted to get away as quickly as he possibly could. Finally reacting for the first time since he’d been pressed against the bonnet, Ichigo fumbled his keys out of his pocket and practically fell into his car, nearly cutting someone off as he tore away from the kerb.

He had to get away from the annoying, _intoxicating_ bastard who seemed determined to fuck with him…or possibly just fuck him.

\--------------------------------------------

Thoroughly pleased with himself, Grimmjow sauntered back to the café. He spotted the man in the hat watching him as he made his way back to Starrk and Lilynette, and he made sure to give the man a casual nod. He liked the guy: he seemed just as Hellbent on screwing with Ichigo as Grimmjow himself.

As expected, Lilynette had a number of questions lined up when Grimmjow wandered back over; but the man had something else on his mind. He cut the girl off before she could start asking the things that had her literally bouncing in her seat from excitement.

“Gimme another couple of minutes, I’ll be back.”

The teenage girl pouted. “But Starrk’s being _boring_. I want to know about that guy!”

“Later,” Grimmjow said dismissively. He quickly made his way back to the outside deck, settling into Ichigo’s abandoned chair and again halting all conversation. No one seemed to know exactly what to ask, so Grimmjow took the initiative.

“So, who’s gonna tell me about Ichigo?”

Silence greeted him. Growling quietly in disgust, he tried something else. “Alright then. Who’s gonna give me his phone number? The little bastard won’t give it to me himself.”

Finally, the punk-looking guy who’d moved around the table earlier spoke up. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. After all, Ichigo didn’t look all that happy to see you.”

Blue eyes rolled. “Is he _ever_ happy _?_ All I wanna do is fuck him. I’m not after his first-born child or anythin’.”

The punk cocked his head to the side, obviously sizing Grimmjow up. Then, the light of realisation dawned on his face. “You’re the one from the hospital, aren’t you!”

“He _is?”_ The big-boobed chick next to the punk gasped. “No _wonder_ Ichigo said he’d fuck you if you weren’t, and I quote, ‘such a goddamn prick’!”

Grimmjow smirked. He _knew_ that Ichigo didn’t completely hate him. Now all he had to do was convince the redhead of that. “Alright, so we all know who I am. Phone number. Now.”

The woman across the table pulled a pen from her handbag and dragged a napkin towards her, reading the number off her cell’s screen as she scribbled it down. She then wrote something else, making Grimmjow raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

A delicate hand with vicious-looking French manicure tips waved the paper towards him, and Grimmjow took it. He didn’t bother looking at it, just shoving it into his pocket as he stood up.

“Later.” Making his way back to Starrk and Lilynette, Grimmjow slid into the seat opposite the girl. She was finishing her meal, but Starrk’s plate was untouched- the idiot was asleep on the table. Again. Quietly pulling the plate towards himself, Grimmjow took a bite of Starkk’s burger while he started fending off Lilynette’s questions.

Remembering the napkin in his pocket, Grimmjow took it out and laughed. The woman had put two numbers down: Ichigo’s and her own. Well, now she just seemed like a clingy bitch.

Taking out his phone, Grimmjow entered the first number into his contacts before screwing the napkin up and dropping it on the table. He’d give it a few days before he actually used the number, though.

He needed to catch the Schoolboy off his guard.


	7. Mouth For War

Ichigo was startled awake by the sound of his phone vibrating on his bedside table. He groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he fumbled for the device: it was Sunday, and he’d been looking forward to sleeping in for once. Obviously, though, someone was hell-bent on ruining that plan.

Blearily, the redhead squinted at his cell’s screen. He didn’t recognise the number that flashed up, but in his half-asleep state it didn’t matter and he answered it anyway.

“What?” He grumbled, rubbing at his aching eyes. He _really_ needed to start sleeping better.

“Oh, did I wake you?” A deep, sensuous voice flowed from the speaker, wrapping around Ichigo’s brain and clouding it even more.

“Huh?”

The voice laughed, low and positively enchanting. The redhead felt a stirring in his lower stomach, but he tried to force it away. “Sorry about that.”

The man on the other end of the line didn’t sound apologetic at all, and Ichigo finally managed to connect the voice to a face. He groaned again.

“Jaegerjaquez? How the hell did you get my number?” It had been over a week since Ichigo had seen or heard from Grimmjow, and he’d stupidly begun to believe that the man had found some other poor sap to chase. From the sound of it, though, Grimmjow was still planning on being an asshole towards him.

“Your hot friend with the massive tits is easy to get info out of.”

“Goddammit, Rangiku,” the redhead muttered under his breath. He was going to have to talk to that woman sometime soon: she really had to learn to stay out of his business. He knew it was how she showed that she cared, but it was just plain annoying.

“Y’know, she gave me her number too,” Grimmjow said in that same teasing tone. Ichigo huffed, unamused.

“Then why don’t you harass her? Obviously she wants you, but I’m. Not. Interested.”

He considered ending the call, but Ichigo felt like he needed to get his point across once and for all. He didn’t like Grimmjow constantly coming after him, and he _definitely_ didn’t appreciate being woken up by the blue-haired annoyance.

“Oh, Schoolboy. Why would I call her when I can talk to you?” Grimmjow’s voice was almost painfully seductive, and despite himself, Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine. Hearing that deep rumble directly in his ear was a little too intimate for comfort, but his body was refusing to listen to his rational mind.

“Listen to me, Jaegerjaquez,” Ichigo stated in a voice that was a lot more controlled than he actually felt. “I want you to leave me alone. You’re pissing me off, and…”

“What’re you wearing?”

“ _What?”_ Ichigo sat up in his bed, suddenly reminded of the fact that he’d been sleeping only in boxers. It was clear that Grimmjow was challenging him. If he backed down now, Grimmjow would win, and he’d never leave Ichigo alone. The redhead couldn’t let that happen.

“I figure if you just woke up, ya might be laying there with a bit of morning wood. I can help you with that.”

Ichigo was furious…and he could feel his cock start to stir as Grimmjow kept speaking in that luscious tone. He was fighting it every step of the way, but even though he didn’t reply, Grimmjow simply fell into a monologue and Ichigo’s resistance began to drain away.

“Why d’you keep rejecting me, Schoolboy? You want me. I bet you jerk off wishing I was there, screwing you into the mattress like the bitch you are.”

Ichigo’s cock twitched again, his semi starting to lightly press against the cool silk of his boxers. He didn’t want this, it was degrading and inappropriate and he barely even _knew_ Grimmjow; but then there was that _voice_. The tone that practically dripped with promises of filthy pleasure and _fun_.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Thrown face-down with my dick up your ass…y’know, I’ve got you pegged for a screamer. The angry ones usually are once I get them underneath me.”

Fingers tightening around his phone, the redhead glanced down to where his sheets were pooling in his lap. He knew that if he moved the bunched material, he’d be tenting his boxers something awful. Grimmjow was a free phone sex line, and Ichigo’s body wanted him to indulge. His mind wasn’t so easily convinced…yet.

“You’re bein’ kinda quiet there, Schoolboy. Did I make you brick already?”

“ _Wha_ -…shut up, asshole! No!” Ichigo flushed bright red, trying to ignore the throbbing in his crotch. He wanted to hang up on Grimmjow, but he just…couldn’t.

He wanted to hear more of that voice. It was driving him crazy, in the best possible way.

“Do you _really_ want me to shut up? I reckon you’d rather listen to me say every dirty thing I wanna do to you.” Grimmjow laughed again, and the sound shot straight to Ichigo’s cock. It was getting harder for him not to touch himself, but he _wouldn’t_ give Grimmjow the pleasure of winning.

“Keep your fantasies to yourself. It’s never going to happen.”

“Oh, really? So I’m never gonna get to wrap my lips around your hard cock while I stretch you right out, gettin’ you ready so I can take you hard and _rough?_ ”

Ichigo swallowed painfully, his throat suddenly dry. He cursed himself for not getting laid often enough: it was coming back to bite him. Everything that Grimmjow said was just so tempting, and the redhead’s brain was supplying the images to go with the seductive words.

“Are you wanking yet? Grabbin’ yourself and working it real good?”

“…No…” Ichigo mumbled, trying to remember exactly why he _wasn’t_. All of his reasoning seemed stupid, especially when compared to the insistent erection pressing right up into his boxers.

“Do it, _Ichigo_.”

It was the name that finally broke him. The redhead was fairly certain that it was the first time he’d ever heard the other man say his given name, and it hit him hard. It seemed a lot less like Grimmjow was messing with him, and more like the guy _actually_ wanted him to get off.

Shoving the sheets away, one hand still holding the phone to his ear, Ichigo lay back against the mattress. Easing his boxers off his hips and kicking them away, the redhead’s breath hitched as his hard-on fell against his stomach. He heard Grimmjow laugh softly, and he rolled his eyes.

It didn’t stop him, though.

Ichigo slicked up his hand with the lotion he kept in the drawer next to his bed and lightly grabbed his cock, biting back the hiss that wanted to escape from him. Even without the noise, though, it seemed like Grimmjow knew exactly what he was doing.

“That’s right,” Grimmjow drawled. “Work yourself over. Lemme hear you, so I know what it’ll sound like when you’re under me, panting and moaning.”

The redhead had his eyes squeezed tightly shut in a weird effort to lessen his embarrassment. He could feel the burn in his cheeks and neck, and it pissed him off; but the more Grimmjow spoke, the less it seemed to matter.

“C’mon, Ichi. What would you sound like if that was _my_ hand on your cock instead of ya own?”

Ichigo groaned lightly as an image appeared in his mind, Grimmjow’s cut body hovering over his own as a large, tanned hand griped his dick, a thumb playing over the head and making the redhead arch slightly.

He stroked himself faster, his fantasy strengthened by the voice of the _real_ Grimmjow talking dirty right into his ear. His earlier reservations gone, Ichigo allowed himself to fall right into the world that Grimmjow had created for him.

“ _Good_. I wanna fuck you right now, Ichigo. Bend ya over and just go t’town on that tight little ass of yours…”

“Oh, _god!_ ”

“…But the sad thing is, I gotta go. Come see me sometime, I’ll make it worth your while, Schoolboy.”

Ichigo’s hand froze as his eyes flew open. “ _What!_ Jaegerjaquez, you…”

He trailed off as he realised that the call had been disconnected. Sitting bolt upright, the redhead threw his phone at the bed, where it bounced off and landed harmlessly on the carpeted floor.

“ _You fucking asshole!”_ He snarled as he fell back onto the mattress, both hands coming up to scrub at his face. His cock was _really_ aching for attention now, but he was too angry to care.

Yeah, he’d go see Grimmjow at some point. Go see him and kick his stupid ass halfway around the _world_.

Laying there for a few moments more, Ichigo sighed and finally let one hand drift back to his erection. He wasn’t going to be able to function properly until his body calmed down.

‘ _Goddammit, Jaegerjaquez.’_

\--------------------------------------------

“What would it sound like if that was _my_ hand on your cock instead of ya own?” Grimmjow grinned as he wandered idly around his apartment, occasionally picking up some of the mess that was scattered about and putting it in the right spots.

He was really enjoying this: it’d been a long time since someone had played _this_ hard to get.

Grin widening when he heard the boy moan, Grimmjow slumped back on his couch with one hand resting lightly over his crotch. He’d get himself off once he finished the call, because he was having _way_ too much fun to divide his attention.

Right at that moment, though, the doorbell rang. Standing, Grimmjow moved to open the door, nodding his head in greeting at the albino man on the other side of the entrance. He beckoned Shiro inside, then continued his conversation as if he didn’t now have an audience.

“ _Good_. I wanna fuck you right now, Ichigo. Bend ya over and just go t’town on that tight little ass of yours…” Shutting the door, Grimmjow followed the albino into his living room, trying not to laugh at the way the other man was shaking his head in mock disbelief.

This time, the redhead on the other end of the phone all-out _moaned_ , and Grimmjow decided that enough was enough. He had to keep the man wanting more, and getting him off right now wasn’t part of that plan. Grinning deviously as he sat back on the couch with Shiro, Grimmjow left the poor kid hanging.

“…But the sad thing is, I gotta go. Come see me sometime, I’ll make it worth your while, Schoolboy.”

Shutting his phone, Grimmjow kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and turned towards his visitor a little.

“S’up, Shiro?”

“Who th’ hell was that?” The albino asked, one white brow raised in question. Grimmjow snickered, running a hand through his hair and ruffling the blue strands.

“Just the next guy I’m gonna bang. Figured I’d have a little fun with him.”

Shiro’s forehead creased in thought. “You call ‘im ‘Ichigo’ when I walked in?”

“…Yeah…” Grimmjow replied, wondering exactly what Shiro was about to come out with. The man had an uncanny knack for knowing the weirdest things about the most random people. Maybe he’d learn something he could use.

“What’s his surname?”

“Ah…Kiro-something…wait, no, pretty sure it’s Kurosaki.”

“Redhead, ‘bout yay tall?” Shiro gestured up into the air, and Grimmjow nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be about right. Why? Ya know the kid?”

Shiro smirked, slouching back into the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s my cousin. Been a while since I’ve seen him, but.”

Grimmjow stared at the albino before laughing madly, pointing a finger into the other man’s face. “Actually, now you mention it, you look kinda like him. ‘Cept he’s hot, and you’re just creepy.”

“Thanks Grimm, really ‘preciate that,” the albino laughed. “How’d ya meet Ichi anyway? Kid’s too much of a nerd to hang out with _you_.”

“Remember when that prick glassed me? Your cous’ the med student was lookin’ after me in the hospital.”

Shiro was silent for a moment, and then cracked up in maniacal-sounding laughter. “Maybe you’d better send that asshole a thank you note, then.”

Grimmjow’s face contorted in a deep scowl, all traces of humour suddenly gone. Shiro caught sight of his expression, and started laughing harder. “I see that cunt again, only thing I’m sending him is on a one-way trip to th’ morgue. They won’t even be able to identify him with his teeth, ‘cause I’m gonna knock ‘em all out.”

“Shit, man, better calm your ass down ‘fore ya get thrown in jail.” Shiro was still laughing, perfectly used to Grimmjow’s horrible temper. He had no doubt that the brunette’s attacker was in for a world of hurt if Grimmjow ever managed to find and identify him.

It was a big place, though: chances were that Grimmjow would never see the guy again. The bastard was probably safe.

“Shut up, Shi. Anyway, you got somethin’ important to say? I was in the middle of phone sex when you burst in, and I ain’t even got off yet.”

“ _Eewwww_ ,” Shiro groaned as he finally stopped cackling. “Y’know, I usually don’t mind hearin’ ‘bout everyone you screw, but keep me outta this one. Known the kid since he was born, so that’s jus’ wrong. I’ll come back later.”

“Good,” Grimmjow replied as Shiro stood. He watched the albino walk to the door, only to pause and turn back.

“Oi, Grimm. You’re my friend and all, so I know ya. Better make sure Ichi knows you’re not lookin’ for anything serious, ‘cause if you hurt him, I’ll tear out ya eyes and shove ‘em up your ass so ya can watch me kick it. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grimmjow muttered dismissively as he got to his feet and made shooing motions with his hands. Shiro stared at him for a few seconds before leaving, and Grimmjow grinned.

Heading for the shower, he stripped his clothes off along the way and let them fall onto the floor. He wasn’t hard anymore, but it wouldn’t take long for him to get back there.

He was so close to breaking Ichigo that he could almost _taste_ it.


	8. A New Level

Ichigo was still incredibly pissed off at Grimmjow. He’d spent the best part of three days silently stewing about the way that the man kept fucking around with him: whenever his friends asked about his worse-than-usual mood, he rudely brushed them off. He wasn’t about to advertise his aborted phone sex exploits to the public at large.

The biggest problem was that he didn’t know what he could do about it. Seeing the man in person was out of the question: Ichigo wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from snapping Grimmjow’s neck if the man started goading him again. That was just a _little_ further than he was willing to go. And although he had the man’s phone number, he didn’t want to end up accidentally destroying his phone in rage.

So Ichigo’s anger just kept growing, with no hope for release. Because of it, he was finding it impossible to concentrate in his daily life, Doctor Kurotsuchi’s annoying voice going straight over his head as the lecturer droned on about anatomy.

But at least there was _one_ positive to the whole situation: Grimmjow hadn’t contacted him since Sunday morning’s debacle. Of course, that meant Ichigo was a little wary of what Grimmjow’s next move might be, but at least Grimmjow wasn’t smothering him with annoyance. It allowed Ichigo to stop himself from snapping and attacking someone- most probably Grimmjow.

Hearing the people around him start shuffling their notebooks, Ichigo glanced up from his own, mostly-blank page. Kurotsuchi was walking towards the exit of the lecture theatre, signalling the end of Ichigo’s school day.

‘ _About fucking time,’_ the redhead thought as he quickly tucked his belongings back into his bag. Tuesdays were his longest session: his last class didn’t finish until six in the evening, and it always put him in a terrible mood. Going straight to his car, the redhead wasted no time in getting onto the road. Heading home, he diverted only to grab some Chinese takeout for dinner, feeling too lazy to cook. The minute he got through his front door, his bag was tossed aside and he crashed down on the couch.

Two hours later, Ichigo hadn’t managed to move far. He was still stretched out on his couch, empty Chinese containers littering the coffee table and a loud, violent action film on the TV. Most of the redhead’s attention, though, was on the medical textbook in front of him: his plans for relaxation had gone down the drain when he’d remembered the essay he had to finish by Friday. Luckily, he was almost done.

The sound of his cell phone vibrating against the coffee table caught Ichigo’s attention and he groped for it, expecting the message to be Rukia continuing the conversation they were having. However, his eyes narrowed when he saw the name that he’d saved onto his phone, just in case.

_New Message (20.33): Grimmjow_

_Hey Schoolboy. What ya doing?_

With an annoyed scoff, Ichigo deleted the message and chucked his phone back onto the table. He wasn’t about to reply to something like that- from _someone_ like that. Picking up his textbook again, the redhead fell back into his assignment.

An hour on and he was almost finished: he just had to sort out his references, which he was _not_ looking forward to and so was going to postpone for a while. Setting the book aside, Ichigo started aimlessly channel surfing, deciding on some generic crime show. He was almost completely zoned out when the buzzing sound came again, his phone clattering on the table.

Lazily collecting the device, Ichigo glanced at it and gave a frustrated sigh.

_New Message (21.27): Grimmjow_

_Ignoring me? Not a good idea._

If he hadn’t already been texting Rukia, the redhead would’ve just turned his damn phone off. As it was, though, he just ignored the message again. He was irritated enough as it was, without being drawn into yet _another_ stupid conversation with the intolerable prick. Shoving Grimmjow to the very back of his mind, Ichigo focused back on the TV.

It was less than ten minutes later, though, when his phone went off once more. Rolling his eyes in exasperation and opening the message without glancing at the screen, Ichigo almost choked on his own spit in shock when he saw what Grimmjow had sent him this time.

There, in full horrifying colour, was a photograph of a calloused hand wrapped around a long, thick and _hard_ cock. It could have been anyone’s- except for the distinctive patch of blue pubic hair peeking through at the edge of the picture. Ichigo stared for several moments before he realised what he was doing, throwing the phone onto the couch and glaring at it.

He was done with this shit. All of it.

Standing up and grabbing his keys and wallet, Ichigo stormed out of his home and slammed the door behind him.

\--------------------------------------------

Grimmjow dropped onto the carpet of his lounge room, tucking himself back in after blowing his load and picking up the X-Box controller again. He felt good, _real_ good: getting off as he messed with Ichigo’s mind was quickly becoming one of his favourite hobbies.

It fed his sadistic nature quite nicely.

He could only imagine how great it would be when he finally got his hands on the guy. Ichigo was putting up a good fight, but he wouldn’t hold out forever. He’d seen it in the redhead’s eyes: he _wanted_ Grimmjow. He just seemed to have some sort of ridiculous pride holding him back.

Well, there were ways around everything. All Grimmjow had to do was keep pushing until he found the weak spot in the wall, and although it seemed like too much effort to put in for a fling, he was having fun. It was going to be worth everything he was putting in.

Unpausing his game, Grimmjow went back to blowing the heads off aliens. He’d start working on Ichigo again another day, when he’d figured out his next move. He wasn't entirely sure what it was going to be, but he knew that it was going to be _good_. He was about ready to kick things up a notch.

He was still killing various kinds of space creatures when someone started pounding heavily on his door. It sounded like Nnoitra, the freakishly tall man seemingly trying to knock Grimmjow’s door down whenever he came by. Feeling too relaxed to get off his ass, he called out to his friend.

“Door’s open!”

There was a moment of silence, and then he heard the door creak. Caught up in virtual crossfire, Grimmjow didn’t bother looking up; he didn’t even really hear the stomping footsteps that were headed right for him. He did, however, hear the snarled words that were delivered in a voice that _definitely_ wasn’t Nnoitra’s.

“Hey, _asshole_.”

Grimmjow’s head snapped around, putting his face directly in the path of the sneaker-clad foot that was barrelling towards him. He didn’t have any time to react and the sole of the shoe connected painfully with his forehead, splitting the fragile skin over his eye and sending blood down his face.

Falling onto his side with a yelled curse, Grimmjow woozily tried to keep the blood out of his eyes, blinking rapidly and trying to make out who his attacker was. A flash of bright orange hair became blurrily apparent, and despite the flaring pain in his head, he smiled.

“Heyyy, Schoolboy. Wanna fuck?”

Another foot slammed down on his waist, Ichigo dropping down to dig one knee into Grimmjow’s side while his fist clipped his jaw. Swinging a fist of his own, Grimmjow growled as Ichigo easily dodged it and forced him onto his back.

Ichigo’s hands twisted in the neck of Grimmjow’s T-shirt, one knee on the carpet and the other directly in the middle of the bigger man’s stomach. Grimmjow was caught between fuming for being temporarily overpowered, and grinning about the fight that Ichigo was starting. He _loved_ fighting…but he hated losing.

Still, for the moment, he was willing to wait for Ichigo to make his next move.

The redhead pulled Grimmjow up by his shirt, eyes screaming death as he scowled and glared. “Do _not._ Ever. Contact me. _Again._ ”

His head pounding and the still-healing wound down his torso aching, Grimmjow wrapped his hands around Ichigo’s waist and smirked through the pain. “But then you’d miss me.”

Ichigo reared back for another hit, inadvertently putting most of his weight on the knee he had on the floor. Grimmjow saw his opportunity and quickly took it, using Ichigo’s shifting weight to push the younger man off him and onto his back. A quick cross to the redhead’s jaw gave Grimmjow enough time to grab the edge of the couch and stumble to his feet.

Running a hand through his already-messy hair, Grimmjow beckoned towards Ichigo. “Let’s see how well ya fight, Ichi. Beat me and I’ll letcha be.”

Of course, he had no intention of doing that. He just wanted to see the redhead go all out, to find out if that concussion he’d been given by the pricks in the alley was just an unlucky shot. Sure, some things in his lounge might get trashed, but he was pulling in a decent wage and not getting enough chances for a good beat-down. It was a fair sacrifice to make.

The redhead lunged for Grimmjow’s legs, the other man slipping away and vaulting over his couch, sending it crashing backwards as he landed. Ichigo landed heavily on his stomach, wincing in pain as he crawled onto his elbows and knees.

“C’mon,” Grimmjow taunted as Ichigo climbed to his feet, a small line of blood trailing out of his mouth from the hit to his jaw. The redhead whipped around to face him, snarling, and then suddenly jumped over the fallen couch. Grimmjow didn’t quite dodge the clothesline of Ichigo’s arm as the redhead came at him, catching it across the temple as he tried to keep his neck safe. The world started spinning, but he wasn’t about to give up: things were just getting good.

Ichigo’s momentum pushed him too far forward, putting him with his back to Grimmjow; the bigger man took to opportunity, darting forward to wrap one arm around the redhead’s waist and attempt to throw him to the floor. At the last minute, though, Ichigo kicked out and caught Grimmjow’s knee, sending him to the floor as well.

Rolling away from each other, the pair struggled to their feet, a fragile side table snapping under Grimmjow’s weight as he used it to force himself up. Any reasonable man would’ve realised that his lingering injuries meant that this was a terrible idea, but the thrum of adrenaline through Grimmjow’s body felt too damn _good_. Wiping more blood from his face, Grimmjow looked Ichigo up and down with a leer.

A ruffled, angry and lightly bleeding Schoolboy was a fucking sexy thing. A distracting thing, too: Ichigo managed to slip forward, planting a foot into Grimmjow’s stomach and following it with a strong uppercut. Cursing himself for dropping his guard, Grimmjow gritted his teeth as his abdomen burned and his jaw caned. Didn’t quite feel like it was broken, though, which he was thankful for.

“Got nothing to say now?” Ichigo spat, fist coming out again; except this time, Grimmjow was ready for it, and a large hand grabbed a thin wrist, redirecting the blow and pulling the redhead towards him. He used his knee to deliver a crippling corky to Ichigo’s thigh, knowing that it would slow the smaller, faster man down a little. Ichigo groaned and blindly thrust an elbow back, but Grimmjow easily dodged it.

Planting his palm between the redhead’s shoulder blades, the older man sent the other sprawling to the floor. Quickly following, Grimmjow arranged himself to pin Ichigo on his stomach, limbs immobilised as he tried desperately to get away. From his position as he straddled the redhead’s hips, Grimmjow had to say that he was rather enjoying the other’s struggle.

It was making Ichigo rub against him in _all_ the right places.

“D’you feel that, Schoolboy?” Grimmjow muttered as he leant right down to Ichigo’s ear. “Does fighting get you _hard?_ ”

“Wh-…What?” Ichigo gasped out as he tried to take a decent breath. “You sick fuck!”

Grimmjow just laughed. He’d been called things that were a _lot_ worse…and a lot less true. “Tends to get me worked up. ‘Specially when I win.”

As the redhead tried to stutter out a response, Grimmjow grabbed his hair and forced his head up and to the side. It would’ve been a slightly painful position for the pinned man: not _too_ agonising, but enough to drive Grimmjow’s point home.

Ducking his own head around to the side, Grimmjow wasted no more time in planting his lips against Ichigo’s, forcing his tongue into the mouth that was hanging open in pain. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position, but the older man didn’t care as he tried to coax Ichigo’s own tongue into action.

He was just glad that the other man was too shocked to bite down.

Just as he was about to make a strategic withdrawal, there was the slightest flicker of a wet muscle against his own; Grimmjow grinned into the kiss as he tilted Ichigo into a slightly better angle, the man still struggling slightly beneath him even as he tentatively started returning Grimmjow’s attention.

Before things could get too hot and heavy, though, Grimmjow was pulling back, sliding off Ichigo’s body and leaning back against his toppled couch. Pressing two fingers to his jaw, he determined that there was no serious damage there before tearing his shirt straight off his body. There were a few spots of blood dotting the vertical line running down his well-muscled torso, but nothing that seemed to require medical attention.

Still, it felt like he was in a bit too much pain for so few physical trophies.

Ichigo was still lying face down on the carpet, groaning softly as he tried to get enough strength to push himself up with his arms. Eventually he forced himself onto hands and knees, collapsing back onto his ass until his spine connected with a chair that had been knocked askew somewhere along the line. The fire in his eyes had dwindled with exhaustion, and he was carefully prodding at his own body in search of serious injuries.

Not seeming to find any, he let his head fall forward, shoulders slumping. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, wondering if the guy was just tired or if there was something _else_ going on.

“S’matter, Ichi?”

It took a few seconds for the other man to reply, voice heavy with something that Grimmjow couldn’t quite pick. “Can’t believe I…I lost. To _you_.” Then he looked up, eyes cold. “ _Why_ are you doing this?”

“Doin’ what? Fighting you? You started it, stooge.”

“ _No_ , you idiot,” Ichigo snapped, some of his usual attitude finally breaking through again. “Why are you chasing me? Calling me just to hang up in the middle of…a conversation? Kissing me? Sending me fucking pictures of your goddamn _dick?_ ”

Grimmjow laughed, using the heel of his hand to wipe a little leftover blood out of his eye. “’Cause I want you. And you want me. You kissed me back, remember.”

“I was…that was…It was just a natural reaction, asshole! You’re a prick, and I want nothing to do with you!”

Scoffing, Grimmjow shifted a little closer to Ichigo, feeling the way his body burned as the adrenaline started to wear off. He was going to be sore for work in the morning. “Then why are you _here_ , Ichigo?”

The redhead was suddenly very interested in his hands, the knuckles slightly reddened from the fight and a little blood marring the skin. He didn’t look up as he spoke, still just staring at his flexing fingers. “To tell you to leave me the fuck alone, alright?”

“And you couldn’t do that over th’ phone?”

“…No,” Ichigo grumbled like a petulant child. It was just too cute: Grimmjow slid himself to within arm’s length of the other man, reaching out to run a finger along the curve of Ichigo’s neck. He could see the shudder that ran through the redhead’s body, and that unconscious action alone told him more than all of the man’s words had.

Ichigo didn’t hate him. He wasn’t _really_ trying to push him away. He probably just didn’t know how to respond to such aggressive chasing without feeling emasculated.

Bringing his hand back, Grimmjow levered himself to his feet with the chair’s help. He didn’t bother offering a hand to Ichigo: he knew the man would reject it straight out. Instead, he slowly made his way to the kitchen, tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it as he returned to the lounge. Ichigo was sitting on the arm of the chair now, trying to straighten out his dishevelled, slightly bloody appearance.

It wasn’t really working.

Exhaling smoke into the air, Grimmjow smirked across at the scowling man. “You look fuckin’ beat. Wanna crash here for the night?”

“ _No_ ,” the redhead immediately snapped as he stood up. “I’m getting the hell away from you.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya another time, then.” Grimmjow swooped in for another kiss, this time a quick peck to the redhead’s lips. He barely avoided the kick aimed at his shin, stepping out of range and taking a drag off his cigarette as Ichigo began to limp out of the pretty trashed room.

As enjoyable as this had all been, he honestly couldn’t wait until the gorgeous creature was limping out of his apartment for a _different_ reason.

And he’d just come up with the next stage of his plan. It was fucking genius, if he said so himself. Fishing his phone from his pocket, the device miraculously still intact, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted.

The front door slammed shut as Grimmjow waited for the man on the other end to pick up the call. Before he had to wait too long, a familiar voice gave its usual greeting.

“S’up?”

“Yeah, hey Shiro. Listen, you wanna do me a favour?”


	9. Vulgar Display of Power

“Goddammit, Kurosaki, you avoid my question _one more time_ and I’ll kick the shit out of you.”

Tatsuki took a threatening step forward, and Ichigo glanced furtively around him for an escape opportunity. The pair of them, along with Orihime, had gone to see Karin’s evening Female Football League match, and it was afterwards that Tatsuki had cornered the redhead in the parking lot. She’d had more than enough of Ichigo dodging her questions about his terrible mood and the obvious bruises he was sporting on his face, and was now determined to force some answers out of him.

For his part, Ichigo was certain that the kickboxer would make good on her threat. If it had been, say, Renji or Ikkaku asking, there wouldn’t have been any problem: he could easily have taken them on and won.

But…he couldn’t hit a _girl_ , even one as strong and dangerous as Tatsuki. It just went against everything he’d ever been taught about chivalry. Too bad for him, it seemed that this woman in particular had no problem with doing the opposite.

As Tatsuki took another step forward, now almost in swinging range, Ichigo did the only thing he could think of: he ran.

“Get back here, you wuss!” He heard the woman shout, quick footsteps sounding behind him. The redhead couldn’t waste the time it would take to look over his shoulder, and so he simply darted off. Hopefully, if Tatsuki hadn’t changed too much from her high school athletics days, she still wasn’t a long-distance runner and Ichigo would be able to keep moving for longer.

He _really_ didn’t want to get caught.

Heading for the business district, now having to weave through larger numbers of people crowding the footpaths, Ichigo sighed with relief when he saw a familiar sign up ahead. He was fairly certain that he’d lost his pursuer several blocks back, but one could never be too careful when Tatsuki was involved. She had a fair few tricks up her sleeve.

Practically skidding through the door of Urahara’s café, Ichigo made a beeline for the kitchen door- and safety. Tessai, tossing something around in a pan at one of the stovetops, didn’t look at all surprised to see the flushed redhead slamming through the door, simply nodding politely before going back to his work. It wasn’t the first time such a situation had occurred, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Leaning against a large fridge and panting to catch his breath, Ichigo bent forward to rest his hands on his knees as he tried to get as much oxygen into his body as possible. He squeezed his eyes shut and stood upright, only to fall backwards into the fridge when he opened them to see Urahara standing _right_ in front of him.

“ _Gah!_ For crying out loud, Hat-and-Clogs, haven’t I asked you not to do that?”

“Don’t pay any mind to me, Ichigo, I’m simply curious to know why my godson has invaded my kitchen.” Looking out from under the brim of his ever-present hat, Urahara gave a rather creepy grin. He was still standing _way_ too close for Ichigo’s comfort, but there wasn’t a whole lot the redhead could do about that.

“It’s not important. I think it’s safe enough for me to get out of here now, anyway.” Ichigo made to leave, but suddenly the older man was blocking the way, most of his face shadowed by the hat.

Still, Ichigo could see that the man now appeared to be pouting. “Don’t you want to stay for a drink, Ichigo? You _did_ run in here rather quickly, after all. You must be tired.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Ichigo replied. “I just needed to ditch Tatsuki, but I’m pretty sure I did that a few streets ago. I should get home.”

“Ichigo,” Urahara said in a tone that was still light and airy, yet somehow utterly commanding, “are you _sure_ that you wouldn’t like to stay for a while and chat?”

The redhead swallowed hard. Urahara was deceptively scary at the best of times, and that was most _definitely_ a command. Luckily, though, the sudden sound of his phone going off in his pocket saved Ichigo from a questioning worse than the Spanish Inquisition. Pulling the device out, the redhead saw that it was a number he didn’t recognise.

After the last time he’d answered an unknown caller, only to be dragged unwillingly into phone sex, Ichigo was a little wary about taking the call; but if it would save him from Urahara, then he was willing to take the gamble.

“Sorry, Urahara, but I gotta take this. I’ll come back some other time, alright?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” the older man replied in a cheerful tone that sent shivers of dread down Ichigo’s spine. He wasn’t planning on coming back for as long as he could help it.

Walking back through the café, Ichigo finally got around to answering the call.

“Hello?” He greeted, understandably a little suspicious. There was a bench placed a little way down the street, and Ichigo walked over to settle down on it. He was positive that he was safe from Tatsuki now, as the woman wouldn’t have wanted to leave Orihime stranded at the football match for too long. She was rather protective of her innocent best friend, as Ichigo could attest from the bruises she’d left on him after he broke up with Orihime.

“Hey there, King. Long time, no speak.” The slightly odd voice coming from the speaker was very familiar, but Ichigo was struggling to place it; that was, until he remembered that only one person ever referred to him as ‘King’.

“…Shiro?”

“The one an’ only!” Ichigo’s albino cousin laughed. A rare smile spread across the redhead’s face: he’d lost all contact with his cousin after the man had turned eighteen and escaped from the insanity that was their family. They’d been drifting apart for a while before that, though, after Shiro’s mother had moved her family away following the tragic death of her sister, Masaki Kurosaki.

“Holy shit! Where’ve you been hiding all this time?”

Another laugh filtered down the line. “I slummed it in Tokyo for a while, ‘fore gettin’ a job as a piercer. A chick I worked with moved down here to set up shop ‘bout three months back, asked me t’come and help out…so I did.”

“It’s been a long time since you left Karakura…how the _hell_ did you find me?” Ichigo was still utterly floored. Not only was he talking to his cousin for the first time in eight years, but the man was actually _back_ in the city. All thoughts of Tatsuki, Urahara and Grimmjow disappeared, replaced by the idea of getting to know his favourite extended family member again.

“Ran into your old man jus’ the other day. Pretty much talked me ear off, but I eventually escaped with ya number. I see Goat-Face hasn’t changed.”

“Yeah, sadly,” Ichigo sighed. Although he knew that his father _could_ be serious, having seen it once or twice during his life, the man seemed far too happy acting like an eternal five-year-old. A five-year-old who could fight like a professional, and took _way_ too much pleasure in showing that fact off.

“Anyway, Ichi, I wanna see ya. You free Friday?”

“Uhh…I should be. No classes on Fridays, and I don’t think I have anything else planned.” Ichigo lent back in the seat, trying to remember his schedule. But honestly, his friends would understand if he had to blow them off to see his estranged cousin.

“Alright, well me ‘n my boss are goin’ drinking on Friday night, you should come. We’re celebratin’ the fact that we’re still in business.”

There was no chance of Ichigo declining that offer. He needed a night where he could just relax and forget about all the bullshit he was being put through, and who better to do that with than the cousin he hadn’t seen in years?

“Hell yeah, you disappeared before we could ever go out drinking together. But better late than never, hey?”

Shiro laughed again, though there was a hint of bitterness underlying the sound. “Better make up f’r lost time then, an’ drink ‘til we can’t see straight! Listen, King, I gotta go, but I’ll text ya the details when we get ‘em worked out. See ya round, Ichi.”

Although he didn’t want the conversation to end so soon, Ichigo was pacified by the fact that he could spend an entire evening catching up with Shiro.  
“Yeah, I’ll catch you Friday then. Bye.”

Standing up from the seat and stretching his body out a little, Ichigo began the trek back to his apartment building, a small smile still playing on his face.

It was truly amazing how the prospect of seeing his cousin again could completely nullify days of growing rage over a certain blue-haired dickhead.

\--------------------------------------------

Friday evening didn’t come anywhere near fast enough for Ichigo’s liking, but he _eventually_ found himself walking towards the bar Shiro had specified, his fingers drumming a nervously impatient rhythm against his leg.

His shoes clicked loudly against the footpath with every step, the white wog tappers simply there to add a little class to his casual jeans and T-shirt. Shiro had warned him that they would most likely end up going clubbing, and if there was one thing that would ruin Ichigo’s night, it would be getting denied entry because of the way he was dressed.

He saw the lit-up sign of his destination not too far away and picked up his pace, eager to meet up with his favourite cousin. It really had been too long.

Approaching the bar, it wasn’t hard for Ichigo to spot his cousin, despite the fact that he hadn’t seen the man in eight whole years. Shiro’s skin always seemed to glow slightly under artificial light, giving him an ethereal presence that made it easy for Ichigo to beeline towards him.

“Shiro!” He called, giving a slight wave as the albino turned in his direction. Grinning widely, Shiro closed the distance between them and grabbed Ichigo’s hand in his own, simultaneously clapping his free arm around the redhead’s shoulders.

“Hey King, how the fuck’re you goin’?” Shiro released his cousin, stepping back to scan the man up and down. Ichigo did the same, noting that Shiro hadn’t really changed all that much since they had last met.

“Ah, y’know, I’m go-…What the _fuck_ is _that?_ ”

Cutting himself off, Ichigo leant in and squinted directly at Shiro’s eyes. It couldn’t have been the dull light playing tricks on him: his cousin’s eyes were… _inhuman!_

“Sclera and cornea tattoos, if ya wanna get all technical and shit. Tattooist I used to work with did ‘em a couple’a months back and I haven’t gone blind yet, so she’s all good.”

Ichigo blinked as he tried to comprehend exactly what his cousin had just said. That was easily one of the stupidest things he’d ever heard…but doing something like that was just so purely Shiro, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

Shiro grinned again, nodding his head. “They look fuckin’ awesome though, so it don’t matter.”

Ichigo started to say something else, but paused when he heard a female voice calling Shiro’s name. Glancing around, he noticed a tall woman with long, blue-green hair bounding towards them on heels that looked _ridiculously_ unsafe for that kind of movement.

She practically tackled Shiro, hugging him tight to her chest for a few seconds before letting him go. The albino didn’t look incredibly impressed about it, but took the affectionate treatment nonetheless.

“King, this’s Nel, my boss an’ one of th’ best goddamn tattooists I’ve ever met. Nel, this’s Ichigo, my cousin.” Ichigo extended his hand, but it was ignored: Nel swept him up in a hug just as she had done to Shiro, practically cracking a rib or two from the strength of her grip.

The height added by the woman’s heels meant that Ichigo’s face was very nearly in her ridiculously large chest, but years of dealing with Orihime and Rangiku made _that_ nothing out of the ordinary.

…Upon further reflection, that actually made him a pretty lucky guy, didn’t it?

Finally being set free, Ichigo took a moment to take the whole woman in. Her green dress hugged her curves, and there were tattoos peeking out from her low-cut neckline and mid-thigh hemline. He had to assume that there was more ink underneath her dress, because her uncovered skin was surprisingly unmarked for a tattoo artist.

“So guys, we going in? Or are we going to stand out here all night?” Nel proceeded to answer her own question, walking into the building and heading straight for the bar. Ichigo looked at Shiro, who shrugged; the pair followed the woman inside, buying a couple of beers and settling down at a nearby table.

“So, Shiro, what the hell have you been doing all this time?” Ichigo asked after taking a swig of his drink.

The albino smirked, leaning forward to prop his elbow on the table and his chin on his palm. “Well, y’know, I fucked off t’ Tokyo, got some shitty job in a factory. Couple a’ years after that, I was walkin’ home one night when I heard this one shoutin’.”

He gestured across to Nel, who frowned. “My boyfriend at the time was absolutely off his face, and he got kinda violent. He punched me, but Shiro saw it and beat the shit outta the guy. I dropped the prick’s ass, and then we got to be pretty good friends.”

“Few months later,” Shiro continued, “th’ factory got shut down. Nel pulled some strings wit’ her boss and got me inta trainin’ as a piercer where she worked. Idiot reckoned she still owed me one after the boyfriend thing.”

A hand darted out, slapping the back of Shiro’s head and making him choke slightly on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. “Don’t act like you didn’t appreciate it, Shiro. You happily worked there with me, what, four or five years? And then it was ‘cause of _me_ that you got out of that horrible apartment!”

Ichigo grimaced. “If you were living on factory wages in Tokyo, I dread to think what kind of place you were staying in…”

“Ah, ya should’ve seen it, King. Tiny, fuckin’ _filthy_ , and not worth what I was payin’.” Shiro sighed nostalgically, putting on a mock-dreamy expression. Ichigo snorted, shaking his head.

“Sounds, uh, _lovely_.”

“Damn right! But then Nel’s bro and his housemate needed someone else t’ live with ‘em. ‘Cause I’m so nice, figured I’d help ‘em out and move in. Stayed there even after her bro’s company sent him here, actually.”

Ichigo let out a surprised sound. “Small world, hey? So what brought _you_ back to Karakura? Chasing Nel’s brother across the country because you’re in love with him?”

The redhead laughed, draining his beer. Nel joined in, reaching across to ruffle Shiro’s white hair. The albino ducked out of the way and scowled at the two others sitting with him.

“Nah, dude’s got a nice ass, but he ain’t the type to bend over.” Shiro stuck his tongue- pierced, Ichigo noticed- out playfully, cracking up when Nel groaned in disgust.

“I _don’t_ need to hear that. But I decided to move here because G’s the only family I have left, plus I’ve always wanted to run my own parlour. It just seemed like a good idea, and I asked Shiro to come along as my piercer.” She smiled fondly at Shiro, who rolled his tattooed eyes.

“Anyway, Ichigo, what’s your story?” Nel leant forward, her dress stretching tighter around her breasts. The redhead glanced at Shiro, who was openly staring; Ichigo knew that the only reason he wasn’t doing the same was his conditioning with being around large-chested girls. It was still a nice sight, though.

“Nothing much to say, really…I’m a med student at Karakura University, managed to spend _way_ too much time and money on school. But I’m almost done.”

“Gotta girlfriend?” Nel asked innocently.

Before Ichigo could answer, Shiro cut in. “Or a boyfriend, hmmm, King? I know ya like a bit’a cock every now an’ then."

The redhead blushed furiously, scowling at his cousin as he stood up to get another drink. “ _No_. And I don’t need a group of dickhead homophobes trying to beat me up just ‘cause they heard you running your mouth… _again_.”

“So~orry,” Shiro sing-songed, not sounded genuine in the least. Ichigo flipped him off as he walked to the bar. Still, he wasn’t _really_ mad: Shiro was still a great guy, and Nel seemed pretty cool.

They were going to have a fun night.

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo was entranced by the way Nel managed to walk on her five-inch heels, even though she’d already had a _ridiculous_ amount of alcohol. How she didn’t have two broken ankles, he had no idea.

The trio joined the short line outside one of Karakura’s nightclubs, chatting about anything and everything while they waited to be admitted. The booze had loosened Ichigo’s tongue, his usually reserved personality going out the window as Nel gleefully grilled him about his life. Shiro was tapping away on his cell phone, a devious smirk on his face as he messaged some unknown person.

A few minutes later the bouncer was collecting up their IDs, scanning them as he looked the group up and down. Ichigo and Shiro sniggered at the way the burly man stared in shock at the albino’s eyes, the unusual body mod clearly freaking him out. They were eventually waved in, trying their best to look at least a _little_ sober as they walked through the door.

Loud music immediately assaulted Ichigo’s senses, the vibrations from the bass line working its way through his body. It was obviously the alcohol talking, but he wanted to dance. The massive group of grinding bodies on the floor looked utterly enticing, and he _really_ felt like joining them.

Nel clearly had the same idea, her hands wrapping around both males’ forearms and dragging them towards the dance floor. The flow of bodies was easy to pick up, Ichigo practically being forced around by the people surrounding him- not that he had any complaints about that.

He was almost back-to-back with an attractive female stranger, and Nel was basically plastered to his front, though the contact was clearly friendly rather than sexual. Shiro was off to the side, already somehow having found a gothic-looking woman to grind rather sensually with. Obviously she was into the whole ‘tattooed eyeballs’ thing.

Losing himself in the music and rhythmic flow of bodies, the redhead fell into his own little world, only to be roughly jolted out of it when Nel suddenly squealed in his ear. She appeared to be waving to someone over his shoulder, face lit up with glee.

“G! You made it!”

There was no way that this mysterious ‘G’ could have heard Nel over the music, but the redhead _definitely_ felt his ears ring even harder from her voice. Turning his head to the side, Ichigo squinted in an effort to pick out which person in the dimly lit room Nel was trying to talk to; he had no luck, though, until the woman squeezed through the crowd and wrapped her arms around a tall male.

When she stepped back, giving the redhead his first good look at the new arrival, Ichigo immediately began looking for an escape route. Too bad for him, though, the dancers around him were blocking all viable exits, and Nel was quickly leading a familiar figure towards him.

Before he knew it, Nel was standing in front of him, leaning close so that she could be heard over the pounding beat of dance music.

“Ichigo, this is my brother, Grimmjow. He swings both ways too,” she finished with a pointed wink. Looking up, the redhead scowled at the lecherous smirk on Grimmjow’s unbearably smug face. He had to get out of here.

“Listen, Nel,” he said as he leant in. “I gotta go, okay? It’s been real fun, but…”

“No!” The woman whined, grabbing Ichigo’s bicep. “ _Please_ , Ichi, stay a while longer. It’s still early!”

She looked down at him, eyes widening to a ridiculous size in an effort to appear innocent and child-like. Ichigo grimaced: he couldn’t ignore that look. It was pretty much the same one Yuzu had been using on him for years, to great effect.

As much as he didn’t want to be anywhere near Grimmjow, especially when alcohol and close-quarters dancing were involved, he couldn’t bring himself to be mean to Nel.

That included _not_ punching Grimmjow out when he got a little too close for Ichigo’s liking, one hand straying awfully low on the redhead’s back. Trying to keep himself calm, Ichigo simply brushed the adventurous hand away, being as inconspicuous about it as possible.

The only way he could keep from beating Grimmjow into the floor was imagining how his sisters would feel if they saw _him_ getting beaten half to death…well, mostly Yuzu. Karin would probably laugh and join in. Even though he’d just met her, he didn’t want to hurt Nel like that.

Maybe once, _just_ this once, he could pretend that Grimmjow was a tolerable person to be around and not a _total_ douche. Besides, his alcohol-fuelled body tended to rather enjoy close contact, and that hand was suddenly back again, running a teasing trail down his spine.

If he ignored the fact that it was caused by the current bane of his existence, the touches actually felt quite… _good_.

Goddammit.


	10. Domination

The Schoolboy was drunk.

Shiro and Nel had been handing him drinks all over the place, and Grimmjow couldn’t have been happier with his sister and his friend. It wasn’t that he was planning on taking advantage of Ichigo while he was drunk- well, not _too_ much of an advantage- but the redhead was getting awfully handsy.

When Grimmjow had first arrived, Ichigo had seemed to try his hardest to stay away. But Nel kept dragging him back and giving him booze, and the more his inhibitions disappeared, the more receptive he was towards Grimmjow’s advances.

Grimmjow’s hand had been brushed away a few times earlier, but now his arm was wound firmly around Ichigo’s waist, the pair grinding together in the crush of moving bodies. The redhead’s hands were sliding across Grimmjow’s chest and sides, never moving away from him for more than a few seconds.

If they got any closer, they’d practically be having sex right there in the middle of the club.

Grimmjow had _known_ that Ichigo wanted him, no matter how much the redhead tried to deny it. He was never wrong about this kind of thing, and apparently all it took to get the stick out of the guy’s ass was a few drinks. Or, well, maybe more than just a few.

One of Ichigo’s hands slid behind Grimmjow’s neck, tugging the taller man down until lips pressed against his ear.

“Grimm,” the redhead said loudly over the pounding music, “I wanna get outta here.”

A predatory grin spreading across his face, Grimmjow looked around to find Nel, who was off to the side and flirting with a well-built blond. Catching her eye, he gestured towards Ichigo and jerked his thumb towards the door, shaking his head at the pleased smile and wave she gave him in return. Dropping his arm over Ichigo’s shoulders, Grimmjow led his catch out of the club and into the night.

From the way that the redhead stumbled slightly and kept up a constant verbal stream about the _weirdest_ things, Grimmjow was a little worried that they wouldn’t make it to the sex before Ichigo passed out; but the air was cool with a sobering bite to it, so he figured there was nothing to worry about.

Turning the corner onto a quiet, deserted street not far from his apartment, Grimmjow let his hand fall from Ichigo’s shoulder, sliding it down his back until he could cup the redhead’s ass. The smaller man shivered at the contact, but made no effort to get away; so Grimmjow took that as permission to tug Ichigo into a nearby alley, shoving the man into a wall and kissing him hard.

The redhead moaned at the contact, his hands scrabbling to grip the back of Grimmjow’s shirt. One of the taller man’s hands was wound in the back of Ichigo’s hair, the other sliding between the wall and the redhead’s ass. Considering how drunk Ichigo was, the kisses were sloppy and a little uncoordinated; but Grimmjow didn’t care, especially with the way Ichigo was grinding up against him, his excitement undeniable.

He was wondering whether he’d be able to get away with just taking the redhead right there, in the alley where anyone could walk through, when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and wrenched him away from his prize.

Instinctively falling into a defensive position, Grimmjow glared up at whoever had interrupted him. In the dull glow of a streetlight just outside the alley, he could only just recognise the tall, lanky figure scowling at him.

It was the asshole who’d tried jumping Ichigo not too long away.

“What the _fuck_ , you cock-blocking douche?” Grimmjow growled, making sure that he was firmly positioned between Ichigo and the interrupter. The redhead was drunkenly slumped against the alley wall, cheeks flushed and hair mussed.

The tall man took a step forward, two other men moving out of the shadows behind him. “I don’t appreciate other people touching my property.”

Grimmjow just laughed in the man’s face. “I told you last time that my foot would become good friends with your ass if I saw you again. Kurosaki’s _mine_ , and you should’ve brought more back-up if you thought you were gonna stop me from gettin’ my dick wet.”

The prick scowled, and Grimmjow smirked. Hocking, he spat up at the taller man, hitting him directly on the right cheek, then lifted his fists as he waited for the three men to rush him.

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo tried to stop the world from spinning as he wondered what had happened. One moment, he’d been feeling on top of the world as Grimmjow had dominated his mouth; the next, he’d been left high-and-dry as Tsukishima had appeared out of _nowhere_ and interrupted them.

All he wanted to do was lay an absolute beatdown on the prick, but whenever he tried to move, the world shifted uncomfortably. But he supposed that Grimmjow wouldn’t need any help, if his cockiness could be translated into skill.

Time seemed to move oddly as he watched Grimmjow face off against the other men. He heard the two arguing over him, and he saw Grimmjow spit in Tsukishima’s face. Then, everything seemed to slow down as Grimmjow dodged the two offsiders who rushed him, spinning around and sending one to the ground with a powerful kick to the lower spine.

It was fucking poetry in action when Grimmjow fought: the man moved with an oddly fluid grace, ducking and weaving like a smaller, leaner fighter. Very few of his strikes missed their targets, the two grunts going down with Grimmjow barely breaking a sweat.

Rather than his arousal lessening from Grimmjow leaving him, Ichigo felt himself getting harder as he watched Grimmjow’s oddly sexy fighting style. The neck of his shirt had been torn open from where one of the men had gotten a lucky hand on him, exposing a tantalising peek at Grimmjow’s toned, hairless chest.

Now, it was just Grimmjow and Tsukishima left standing: the long-haired coward had largely stayed out of the fighting, as usual, but Grimmjow was quickly advancing on him, manic grin firmly in place. Ichigo knew from experience that Tsukishima could handle himself in a fight, but he _thought_ that Grimm was better: the man had a feral streak to him, and skills that had obviously been honed in a _lot_ of street fights.

Tsukishima’s style was based in martial arts, Ichigo remembered, which tended to be a disadvantage against a straight-up, dirty-fighting brawler. But just as Ichigo finished that thought, Tsukishima lashed out with a long leg, somehow managing to catch Grimmjow in the stomach and hunch him over, Grimmjow gasping for breath.

That, however, must just have been a distraction technique on Grimmjow’s part: Tsukishima obviously saw a clear spot for an attack, stupidly using the same type of kick and aiming for the bent-over man’s face.

Quick as a flash, Grimmjow straightened up and trapped Tsukishima’s leg between his own arm and body, using his free hand to slam his elbow down on the other man’s knee. Shoving Tsukishima away, Grimmjow laughed as he watched the taller man try to put weight on his leg, only to crumple to the ground.

A sharp kick to the ribs, probably breaking at least one, and Grimmjow was done, only a light sheen of sweat covering his face and uncovered chest. He put his foot across Tsukishima’s neck, not hard enough to damage anything but enough to be a definite threat; leaning down, he jabbed his finger towards the other man.

“Don’t fuck with me or Kurosaki again. This is your last warning: stay away from me. I won’t be so nice next time.” Another foot to the man’s stomach, and he turned back to face Ichigo.

“Let’s bail, Schoolboy.”

Ichigo, having sobered up slightly as he watched the fight, launched himself only slightly unsteadily at Grimmjow, grabbing him around the neck and wrapping his legs around Grimmjow’s waist. Big hands spread under his ass, holding him in place as he pressed his forehead against the other man’s.

“That,” Ichigo gasped drunkenly, “was fucking hot.”

He dropped his head down, kissing and licking the line of Grimmjow’s neck as he was shifted into a more comfortable position.

“You are one fucked up kid,” Grimmjow laughed. “I like that.”

Ichigo loved the feeling of Grimmjow carting him around like he weighed nothing, even if it would have thoroughly emasculated him when sober; even being thrown into a nearby taxi was okay with him right then, and he sprawled across the back seat as Grimmjow reeled off his address to the driver.

He didn’t even care that the driver could see them as he sat up and leant in towards Grimmjow, one of his hands playing along Grimmjow’s upper thigh. Grimmjow just grinned and leant back, letting Ichigo do as he wanted during the taxi ride.

The short drive didn’t allow Ichigo to go any further than a little over-the-clothes groping, which was probably a good thing, but he was almost unbearably hard by the time they stumbled into Grimmjow’s apartment.

Grimmjow didn’t waste any time, practically throwing Ichigo down on the bed as soon as he had been divested of his clothes. Leaning back on his elbows, Ichigo watched Grimmjow throw his ripped shirt aside, tradie abs chiselled by physical labour coming into view.

But that sight was quickly overshadowed as Grimmjow ditched his pants, his big, hard cock curving up towards his stomach. Ichigo didn’t need any encouragement as Grimmjow settled onto the bed beside him, quickly scooting down and licking a long stripe from Grimmjow’s balls to the tip of his cut head.

“Quit pussy-footin’ around and _suck it_ ,” Grimmjow grumbled, voice rough from arousal. He groaned contentedly as Ichigo followed the order and let his lips slide down Grimmjow’s dick, the alcohol suppressing his gag reflex and letting him take most of it in. What he couldn’t swallow, he wrapped one hand around, lightly squeezing as his other hand rolled Grimmjow’s balls.

Pulling off slightly, Ichigo allowed his tongue to play over the head, a surprised squeak escaping him when Grimmjow huffed in frustration, pressing the back of Ichigo’s head and forcing him back down.

As well as he could, Ichigo glared up through the fall of his hair; Grimmjow just grinned back, quirking an eyebrow and thrusting his hips upwards. This time, Ichigo did cough and gag slightly, but Grimmjow released his hair, allowing the redhead to pull back and breathe.

“You’re an asshole,” Ichigo muttered as he rubbed at his throat.

“It’s what I do. But right now I’m doin’ _you_ , so stick that tight ass in the air and spread ‘em.”

Ichigo glared, but he did it anyway, rolling over with his face in the mattress and his ass sticking up. Grimmjow didn’t waste any time in grabbing lube and a condom from his bedside table, quickly slicking up a couple of fingers and abruptly shoving them into the redhead.

The copious amounts of alcohol dulled any pain Ichigo might have felt, instead just leaving him with the glorious feeling of being filled. Grimmjow obviously knew what he was doing, not taking too long to search out Ichigo’s prostate and mercilessly rub over it, leaving the redhead a moaning, writhing mess.

No one had ever managed to make him orgasm just from ass play alone, but Ichigo felt like he was quickly heading that way. He was so far gone, the stream of filth Grimmjow was muttering faded away into the background, the words almost incomprehensible under the sound of his own moans and whines.

With a _lot_ more effort than should have been necessary, Ichigo reached behind him and grabbed Grimmjow’s wrist, stopping the movement of the man’s fingers. “For fuck’s sake,” the redhead gasped, “just _fuck me_ already!”

“Got a filthy little mouth there, Ichigo. I won’t do it if you don’t ask nicely.” Even though Grimmjow was behind him, Ichigo could pretty much see the vicious smirk on the man’s face. But in his drunken, lust-fuelled state, it just made the other man seem even sexier.

“ _Please_ ,” he breathed brokenly. “ _Please_ , fill me up.”

Grimmjow laughed, deep in the back of his throat, before Ichigo heard the distinct sound of a condom tearing open and the slick noises of Grimmjow getting lubed up. Rearing up onto his elbows, Ichigo jerked backwards when he felt the tip of that fantastically-sized cock at his hole, luckily managing to force half of it into him.

“Impatient much?” Grimmjow drawled, slowly pulling most of the way out before sliding back in at a frustrating, excruciatingly languid pace. Ichigo just growled, moving his own body in an attempt to speed the other man up.

“Oh, no,” Grimmjow laughed. “I’m the one in charge here. You just sit back and let me use you.”

Gripping Ichigo’s hips with his strong hands, Grimmjow forced the redhead to stay still while he nailed his prostate on every stroke. Ichigo dropped his head as his arms started to waver, the ridiculous pleasure driving him crazy- yet not to the point where he felt he could get off.

“Touch me,” Ichigo almost begged, fearing that he would lose his balance if he tried to stroke himself. Grimmjow let loose with a light swat to his ass in response, his breath hitching as Ichigo bucked around him.

“Hell no, I wanna see if you can get off from just my dick.” Thankfully, Grimmjow took some small amount of pity on Ichigo, speeding up until each thrust would have sent the smaller man into the headboard, if not for the tight grip on his hips.

 _Finally_ getting what he wanted, Ichigo bit his lip to keep in the embarrassing noises that wanted to escape, revelling in the feeling of Grimmjow pounding him into the mattress. Having already been brought so close to the edge, it didn’t take too long before Ichigo knew that Grimmjow was right: that dick _was_ enough to get him off.

“I’m…getting close,” the redhead panted, tossing his head back as a bead of sweat dripped down his face. He heard Grimmjow’s sharp intake of breath, then the thrusts became even more insistent, Grimmjow obviously determined to make him come without anything but straight-up fucking.

And it worked: obviously, Ichigo was more into rough treatment than he’d previously known, as he soon found himself barrelling towards orgasm, the force of it tearing a guttural yell from his throat as he made an absolute mess of the bedcovers.

Grimmjow ran an unexpectedly gentle hand through his hair, while murmuring a positively self-satisfied, “ _damn_ , I’m good.”

Ichigo slumped back down again, panting hard, as Grimmjow continued to fuck him at a frenzied pace.

“Better hold on tight, Schoolboy. I ain’t _close_ to done with you yet.”

After that, the post-orgasmic haze distorted Ichigo’s perceptions, his consciousness floating in and out until he felt Grimmjow slam right up against him, the man shuddering through his own orgasm.

As the hands finally released his hips, most definitely leaving deep bruises, Ichigo fell onto his stomach, almost immediately asleep.

\--------------------------------------------

Grimmjow was woken up by the feeling of his mattress shifting, the deep sleep clouding his mind making it take a few moments for him to realise what was happening.

He’d finally fucked Ichigo, and _damn_ did that guy have one hell of an ass.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he could hear the redhead repeating quietly, and when he finally cracked an eye open, he could see the other man darting around the room, hastily shoving his clothes back on.

“Mornin’,” Grimmjow drawled, smirking as Ichigo whipped around to face him. The pure anger on the redhead’s face was a _beautiful_ sight, and if he had more energy, Grimmjow would’ve gotten up just to throw Ichigo back onto the bed for a second round.

Even without that though, he knew that it was gonna be a good morning.


	11. Yesterday Don't Mean Shit

Predictably enough, Ichigo immediately ran for the front door the moment he was fully clothed again. He didn’t get far though, as the door was slammed open before he could quite reach it.

Judging by the voices that Grimmjow could hear, two of his current favourite people were blocking Ichigo from leaving. Nel and Shiro both sounded deviously gleeful, even as Ichigo started ranting and raving about “ _irresponsible dickhead relatives”_ and “ _conniving she-devils”._ Dragging himself out of bed, Grimmjow pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way to the others, one hand scratching through the trail of hair at the bottom of his abdomen.

“Could you be any goddamn louder?” He grumbled without any real feeling.

Twin smirks were turned on him, Nel barrelling over to hug Grimmjow around the chest. “Congrats, G! He’s _easily_ the least-regrettable person you’ve ever managed to talk into drunkenly fucking you!”

Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow pushed his sister away without too much force, giving Ichigo a sideways glance just to see how the younger man would react to hearing _that_.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“ _He_ might not regret it,” Ichigo snapped, eyes blazing with anger, “but all three of you are _assholes_.”

Because Shiro was the only one left blocking the doorway, it didn’t take much effort for Ichigo to shove his way through and escape. Grimmjow couldn’t really say that he cared- he’d gotten what he wanted- but Nel actually looked a little worried.

That was different: she usually took great pleasure in terrorising Grimmjow’s one-night-stands and throwing them out of the apartment, half the time acting like a cheated-on wife just for shits and giggles.

“…What the hell, G? Oh _god_ , please tell me it was consensual…” Nel seemed _genuinely_ scared of that possibility, and it actually hurt Grimmjow a little that his own sister thought he could rape someone. People who looked the way he did had no need for non-consensual sex, and he might be a lot of bad things, but he was _not_ a rapist.

“Christ, Nel, d’ya really think that little of me? He’s probably just ragging or somethin’, how should I know?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Grimmjow glared at Nel and thoroughly ignored the way Shiro was laughing at the entire situation.

“Sorry, Grimm, that was actually kinda uncalled for. I’m gonna go after him though, ‘cause I feel a bit bad that he thinks we manipulated him into this. I’ll be back a little later, and then you’re going to fill me in on why Shiro told me that you’d already met.”

Waving his sister away disinterestedly, Grimmjow turned to Shiro as Nel left the apartment. “Hair a’ the dog?”

“Damn fuckin’ straight!” The albino grinned, practically bounding over to the fridge and pulling out two beer bottles. Grimmjow grabbed his out of the air as Shiro chucked it towards him, slumping down on the couch and grabbing the TV remote. He was aimlessly flicking through channels when a sharp nail poked into the side of his neck.

“I’m givin’ ya a free pass on this one, ‘cause Ichi’s shitty at me n’ Nel too, but jus’ remember what I said about him gettin’ hurt.”

Grimmjow huffed out a sigh, taking a swig from his beer. “Don’t be such a friggin’ princess, Shiro. I’m done with him, and he’s obviously done with me. Nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro muttered with obvious disbelief.

“Oh, shut th’ fuck up and let me watch TV in peace.”

“Whatever, bro.”

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo was just digging out his wallet to pay for his coffee when a hand stilled his movements.

“And add a regular skinny latte to the order, yeah?"

Ichigo turned towards the female voice, gaze narrowing as he watched Nel hand over enough money to cover both drinks. He raised an eyebrow as she met his angry stare, but the woman didn’t seem cowed in the least.

“You wanna find us a table? I’ll grab our drinks.”

“I’m not staying here, Nel. My clothes are filthy, I need a shower, and I was just grabbing something to drink on the way home.”

“Five minutes. That’s all I want.”

Ichigo groaned, but gave in. Nel might have been half the reason he was in this mess in the first place, but she seemed like a decent enough person. He was fully planning on ignoring the hell out of Shiro for a while, and that went double for Grimmjow, but he couldn’t just run off on Nel.

“Five minutes. But then I’m bailing, because I feel like scummy garbage and I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk.”

The smile she flashed him was earnest and, quite honestly, adorable. Even if Ichigo hadn’t already been stalked and thoroughly creeped out by her brother, he could never have seen Nel as a sexual object: she reminded him _way_ too much of his sisters, Yuzu in particular.

Shaking his head a little, Ichigo wandered over to a free table and slumped down rather ungracefully. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Nel that he was most likely still drunk from the previous night, and the room was wavering a little bit. He’d put up with worse in the past, though.

It only took a couple of minutes for Nel to come over with their drinks, and Ichigo practically inhaled the coffee the moment it was placed in front of him. Nel watched him with totally unconcealed amusement, but Ichigo held off on acknowledging that until he’d gotten as much caffeine into his system as he could.

Giving Nel an unimpressed look, he finally put the cup back on the table. “So?”

“Okay,” Nel began, not even pretending to be confused as to what Ichigo was asking. “Yes, G can be a massive dickhead sometimes, and Shiro and I shouldn’t have helped him out, but he’s a great guy under all his posturing.”

“If you say so,” Ichigo muttered under his breath. Raising his voice, he asked, “And this has _what_ to do with me, exactly?”

“Give Grimm a chance. Go out on a date…for me?”

Oh god, the wide-eyed innocent look was back.

“Nel, I can’t do it. And why do you even care so much?”

When the woman turned her back to Ichigo, he honestly had no idea what was going on. She brushed her long hair over her shoulder, showing off an ornate ‘G’ that was tattooed on the back of her neck. A long fingernail tapped at the black design.

“You see this, Ichi?”

“…Yeah?”

“This was my first tattoo, and I got it ‘cause my brother is the only family I care about anymore. He’s made some shitty choices in life, and I just want what’s best for him.”

Nel turned back to face Ichigo, pinning him with an inquisitive stare. “I think _you’re_ what’s best for him right now.”

Ichigo honestly had no idea what to say to that. It usually took a couple of dates before he had the family getting this involved in him, and that was usually because some overprotective father was worried about his daughter.

“I’ve never even dated a guy, Nel. I’d be totally useless at it, probably.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t look at all perturbed by that. If anything, her earnest look came back in greater force than ever. “Well then, that means your standards won’t be too high, and you won’t leave him the minute he inevitably screws up!”

The redhead dropped his face into his palm. “We’ve slept together _once_ , and had like, four conversations. Why are you assuming that we’re going to get into a relationship?”

“Because sister knows best!” Reaching across to condescendingly pat Ichigo on the head, Nel grabbed her half-full drink and stood up. “Now then, I’ll get him to text you the details for your date. See you around, Ichi.”

“ _Wait a minute_ , I didn’t even agree to anything!”

Nel didn’t bother responding, only giving him an enthusiastic wave as she left the café. Ichigo slumped onto the table, resting his head on his forearms as he wondered where he’d gone wrong in his life.

\--------------------------------------------

Grimmjow and Shiro were still parked in front of the TV, onto their second beers, when Nel slammed through the front door again. When they didn’t even look at her, she stood directly in the way of the TV, hands planted on her hips.

“Tryin’ to watch that, Nel,” Grimmjow snarked. Nel didn’t move from her spot, only glancing behind her to see what was on the screen.

“Because it’s _so_ important that you watch…is that Next Top Model? _Jesus_ , G…” Nel turned back to the guys, lips pursing as she tried not to laugh. Grimmjow and Shiro glanced at each other, shrugging slightly.

“The chicks are all really hot. Couldn’t give a shit about the fashion junk, but this is a lingerie shoot episode, so fuck off.” Grimmjow made a shooing motion with his hand, glaring when his sister was still blocking the view.

“You’ve got a date with Ichigo,” Nel asserted, ignoring the venomous glare being directed at her.

“Uh, no I don’t.” Raising an eyebrow, Grimmjow leant to the side, trying to see the screen around his sister. Nel laughed sarcastically, stepping forward until she was directly in front of Grimmjow.

“Listen carefully: you _will_ be going on the date that Ichigo agreed to, and you will _like it_.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise that you’re my fuckin’ mother, Nel. I don’t date and you damn well know it.”

Sighing, Nel jabbed Grimmjow’s chest with her index finger. “Lemme lay some knowledge on you, dear brother of mine. The only reason you don’t date is ‘cause you only go for smashable chicks: the kind of girls who’re completely batshit insane and who no one in their right minds wants to date. You’re getting older, so you need to start going for wifeable girls. They’re out there, and _you’ve got one_. Don’t fuck it up just because you’re a fucking asshole, yeah?”

“After last night, I can tell ya that Ichigo definitely ain’t a chick.”

“ _The point still stands!”_ Nel screeched as she threw her hands in the air, exasperated. “Ichigo’s the kind of guy you could settle down with, so he’s _wifeable_. It’s not my fault that ‘husbandable’ sounds stupid.”

Draining the last of his beer and punching Shiro in the side for laughing _way_ too hard at the whole exchange, Grimmjow snarled at his sister. “I dunno where you pulled that bullshit from, but you don’t get ta tell me how I should live. Our prick of a father did the same fuckin’ thing, and _you know it_.”

Nel’s expression darkened ominously at that, which even made Shiro stop laughing and sit up straight. It wasn’t often that Nel got furious, and the men knew better than to take her lightly when she was in such a state.

“I am _nothing_ like him. You’re a goddamn _dick_ , Grimmjow, and if you compare me to that _bastard_ one more time, I’ll break your arm the same way he did mine.” Whirling around, Nel stomped from the apartment; however, Grimmjow still caught the glossy redness of her eyes before she turned away.

It took a lot to make Grimmjow feel bad. He didn’t bat an eyelid at throwing his one-night-stands out of his apartment, nor at beating the shit out of someone who deserved it.

Here, though, he was fully aware that he’d crossed a line he _really_ shouldn’t have. He and Nel’s father was the worst kind of person, and Grimmjow knew that Nel trying to set him up with Ichigo was nothing like what their father had done when they were younger. He’d been backed into a corner, and he’d come out swinging; but it’d been a despicably low blow, and he could actually feel guilt gnawing at his insides for reducing his sister for tears.

There was only one way he could make up for this.

\--------------------------------------------

Ichigo was stepping out of the shower when there was a loud knock on the door, making him groan in frustration.

“Gimme a moment,” he called to whoever it was as he quickly dried off and threw on the clean sweatpants and T-shirt he’d brought into the bathroom with him. Making his way to the front door, he could hear two familiar female voices talking and briefly considered not opening the door at all.

“We know you’re there, idiot.”

Well, there went that plan. Pulling the door open, Ichigo leant against the frame and looked tiredly at his visitors. Rangiku smiled in greeting, but Rukia just pushed Ichigo out of the way and walked into the apartment, settling herself casually in an armchair. Clearly stifling a laugh, Rangiku linked her arm through Ichigo’s, dragging him inside and pulling him down onto the couch.

“To what do I owe _this_ pleasure?” The redhead asked, sarcasm heavy in his tone. The two girls looked at each other, both grinning in a way that was unsettlingly evil.

“Did you have fun last night?” Rukia asked in an innocent voice that didn’t suit her at all.

Ichigo immediately felt sick.

Pressing a manicured index finger to her beauty spot, Rangiku widened her eyes in mock naïveté. “Apparently you were seen getting up close and personal with a certain blue haired hottie.”

“Wha…I…no, I was just…uh…” Ichigo was fully aware that his awkward stuttering was confirming what the women seemed to already know, but he couldn’t stop his instinctive denials.

“I’m really surprised it took us this long to find out you’re into dudes. From what I hear, you were pretty much screwing the dude in the middle of the club…not that I blame you, I’d climb that guy like a tree.” Rangiku dropped the innocent act, and Rukia did the same.

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a date, idiot?” Rukia demanded, sitting forward in the chair.

Flushing, Ichigo glared at both women and tried to keep the flustered tone out of his voice. “It wasn’t a date, dammit! I didn’t even know he was going to be there.”

Rangiku arched a thin eyebrow, laughing. “So you didn’t even make it to the first date before you gave it up for him? Oh honey, I thought you had more class than that.”

“Don’t you know that you’re supposed to wait until the _third_ date to sleep with someone?”

They were ganging up on him, and Ichigo didn’t like it. For once, he decided to put everything out on the table, and hopefully get the females off his back. What was it with women today? They all seemed to have it out for him.

“Here’s the deal. Listen carefully,” he started, Rukia and Rangiku both watching him with total interest. “I thought I was just going out with Shiro- my cousin, I’ve told you about him- and a woman he works with. That’s Nel, she’s pretty cool. Turned out, though, that she brought her brother with her. That was Grimmjow, but I only found out about _that_ once Nel decided she didn’t want me to leave.”

The girls were now clearly trying not to laugh, and Ichigo frowned. “Nel and Shiro got me _really_ drunk. It wasn’t my fault that…hang on.”

Hearing his phone start ringing from where he’d left it in the kitchen, Ichigo got up and quickly headed over to it. He groaned when he saw the caller ID, but reluctantly answered the call anyway.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Oh, sweetheart, is that any way ta talk to the guy who’s takin’ you out on a date tonight?” Grimmjow let out a deliciously deep laugh, and Ichigo felt himself involuntarily shiver as he remembered flashes of that voice talking dirty to him the previous night.

“I don’t think so,” the redhead managed to force out in a nearly level tone. “I never agreed to what Nel said. We’re not going on a date.”

“Y’see, I think that’s gonna be a problem,” Grimmjow said. “I’ll pick ya up at five. Dress nice.”

“ _Wait_ …” Ichigo spat out as the call end tone sounded. He let out a sigh, jumping slightly as hands grabbed his shoulders.

“Ichigo, take us to your wardrobe. We’ve got to get an outfit picked out for your big date!”

“How the _hell_ did you know that?”

Rukia grinned, practically vibrating with glee. “You should _really_ turn down the volume of your calls. That gorgeous voice was pretty easy to hear.”

Pulling away from the women, Ichigo turned to stare them down. “I don’t even _want_ to go on this date!”

“But you _do_ want to get laid,” Rangiku giggled. “And since you’ve already hit that, we need to make you look _extra_ fuckable for tonight.”

 Dropping his head in frustrated exhaustion, Ichigo finally gave in and let his friends drag him towards his bedroom.


	12. 13 Steps to Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It's been two years, six months and six days since I last updated this story BUT I have everything but the final chapter written now, so we're gonna do one a week until shit's cash. If anyone from way back then is still reading, I guess I'm sorry about the unintended hiatus.
> 
> The reason why this is suddenly popping up is that today marks **_five fucking years_** since I posted the very first chapter of my very first fic, so I figured dropping this would be a good way to recognise the occasion. I hope it's not too disappointing after the huge-ass wait.

Ichigo felt fucking _ridiculous_ as he sat on his couch in black dress pants and a button up shirt, Rukia and Rangiku boxing him in so that he couldn't bail before Grimmjow arrived. Hell, he was feeling pretty certain that he wasn't going to turn up _anyway_ , and his sinking feeling of mortification was really bringing him down.

He had a million other things he could have been doing, but the girls weren't even letting him stand up, much less leave their sight.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed him that it was very nearly five, and the rate at which he was drumming his fingers against his thighs increased. Every little noise in the hallway outside his apartment was making him jump, and at this rate he felt like he was going to have a heart attack before it even reached five o'clock.

“Calm down,” Rukia said gently putting her hand over Ichigo's twitching one and holding it until he stopped moving. “It's just a date, you've been on _heaps_ of those before.”

“Not like this,” Ichigo muttered, thinking about Grimmjow's _stupid_ smirk and Nel's insistence. “I don't even _like_ him, why the Hell would I be anything other than nervous about what will almost definitely be a total trainwreck of an evening?”

“Ichigo,” Rangiku started and Ichigo could see her and Rukia exchange looks past him. Rangiku shrugged, not quite sure how to phrase what she wanted to say, and Rukia took over for her.

“You're not the kind of guy who would fuck someone you don't like at least a _little_.”

“I was _drunk_ ,” Ichigo exploded, shaking off their hands and standing up, whirling around to face them both. “I made a bad decision, and now I'm paying for it. He's an _arrogant prick_ and after this, I don't want to have a single thing to do with him. “

Rangiku shook her head and Ichigo was shocked to see the beginnings of pity in her eyes. “Do you really believe that, Ichigo? I just...maybe you shouldn't be so quick to discount this?”

Whatever Ichigo was going to say in reply was lost when there was a loud knocking on his door. Jumping in shock, the redhead stared at the women on his couch, his mind going blank. He honestly hadn't expected Grimmjow to show up, much less _exactly_ on time. There was more knocking when he was still frozen in place, making Rangiku flick her hair and walk past him, opening the door herself.

“Hi Grimmjow,” she said in what Ichigo easily recognised as her flirtatious voice, and he turned around to see Grimmjow staring down at her with an unreadable look on his face, clearly not remembering her from Urahara's.

“If Shiro lied to me about where Ichigo lives, then I'm gonna kick his ass into next week.”

“I don't know if you'd win that one,” Ichigo answered on reflex alone, thinking about the damage he'd seen his cousin wreak back when they were kids. Grimmjow looked up and grinned, tipping his head in a casual nod when he saw Ichigo standing there.

“You've seen me fight,” Grimmjow laughed, cracking his knuckles. “I beat _you_ , so I reckon I could take the albino wonder.”

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by Grimmjow's bravado. Grimmjow just shrugged, sticking his hands into the pockets of his...jeans? _Ripped jeans_ ? Oh, Ichigo was going to _kill him_.

“Doesn't matter anyway, 'cause you're right here. But you should prob'ly go change, I was jokin' about the 'dress nice' part.”

Shooting Grimmjow a disgusted look as the man stepped around Rangiku and into the apartment, Ichigo stomped off to change and reminded himself that he was doing this for Nel. Nel was lovely and kind and could probably become one of his good friends, and so Ichigo was _not_ going to let Grimmjow get the better of him.

Returning to the living room in a _much_ more casual jeans and T-shirt, Ichigo scowled at Grimmjow. He was leaning against the wall while staring blankly at Rukia, who appeared to be trying to interrogate him with zero success. Hearing footsteps, Grimmjow looked up at Ichigo then pushed away from the wall, beckoning him over before turning to walk out the door.

“Time t' hit the fuck off button,” Grimmjow drawled, disappearing out into the hallway. Ichigo rolled his eyes and said his goodbyes to the girls, ignoring their attempts at giving him 'advice'. He was fairly certain that Rangiku's suggestions about lube were completely unnecessary.

They were both silent as they made their way out to where Grimmjow was parked, the car beeping as the doors were remotely unlocked. Ichigo couldn't help but notice that it looked relatively new and _nice_ , which he had to say was something he hadn't expected.

“Where are we going?” Ichigo finally asked once they were on the road, breaking their not-entirely-uncomfortable silence. Grimmjow side-eyed him for a moment, smoothly turning a corner, and then finally deigned to answer.

“You'll see.”

Ichigo really wasn't sure what he'd expected and so he resigned himself to looking out the window, watching the world go past. The stereo was quietly playing something that he couldn't quite recognise, something with heavy guitars and pounding drums, and Ichigo suddenly realised that no matter how unwillingly, he was _learning_ things about Grimmjow.

The lights of the city began to give way to a more rural setting, and although Ichigo knew that he was _probably_ fine, he couldn't help the small flare of anxiety he felt when Grimmjow turned the car towards a bushland area.

Covering his emotions with scorn, Ichigo turned his face towards Grimmjow, who was intently watching the road in front of them. “If you're going to rape and murder me before dumping my body out here, I _really_ think you should know how fucking dumb of an idea that is.”

Groaning in annoyance, Grimmjow took his hand off the gear stick and lightly punched Ichigo in the shoulder. “I don't know why ya think I'm such a bad person. Shut up and _wait_.”

“ _Rude_ ,” Ichigo muttered under his breath, only to get a laugh in return.

Grimmjow competently steered the car through the increasingly uneven ground of the forest, which Ichigo could say he _was_ happy about. He was surprised enough to learn that he didn't need to be hanging on for dear life, and when Grimmjow finally pulled to a stop in front of a clearing he didn't feel the urge to kiss solid ground. For the sake of his dignity, that was certainly a positive.

“It's...an empty clearing?” Ichigo asked, a decent amount of snark creeping into his voice as they both stepped out of the car.

“If you don't shut th' fuck up, I'm gonna enjoy this _even more,_ ” Grimmjow growled menacingly, popping the boot of the car and reaching in to grab two duffle bags. Ichigo just pulled a face, trying to disguise the interest with which he was eyeing the bags.

He managed to smoothly catch the bag that Grimmjow tossed towards him, although he was a little taken aback by how easily Grimmjow threw the heavy thing. Crouching down and setting the bag on the floor, Ichigo unzipped it, only to stare wide-eyed at what was inside.

Looking up at Grimmjow, he raised an eyebrow as the man held up a long, black and kind of dangerous looking paintball gun and grinned wildly. “Nnoi an' I fuck around here when we get bored. No one'll be around and we can get as loud as we want...plus I gotta say, getting to fight you a bit more should be fun.”

Pulling out his own weapon, Ichigo looked it over. He'd gone paintballing a few times before, but never in the open like this, and he had to admit that it seemed like fun. Putting aside the expensive machine, he dug into the bag a little more, finding extra ammo, a chest plate and a mask.

“There's more armour in the back if you're gonna be a wimp,” Grimmjow scoffed as he strapped up his chest, still a little wary of the scar running down his torso. The bait was obvious and Ichigo was a little ashamed to say that he took it, flipping Grimmjow off and adjusting the chestplate to fit. He left the mask off, deciding not to put it on until they'd gotten started.

“So what's the deal here?”

Grimmjow gestured around them, pointing in each direction as he reeled things off. “There's fences to the south and the east, a road to the west and this clearin' right here. It's basically impossible to get lost unless you're a fuckin' idiot, but there's a whistle in your bag if you really need it and I've got my phone with me.”

Ichigo nodded, feeling excitement start to to build despite himself. He didn't really _want_ to enjoy himself with Grimmjow, but he'd never expected their 'date' to be anything like this.

“It'll get too dark to see in a bit over an hour, so we'll call it a day then or when we both run outta ammo.” Grimmjow loaded his weapon, Ichigo following his motions, and then cocked it. Ichigo barely managed to jump out of the way of the paint that splattered onto the ground just by his feet, scowling as Grimmjow bared his teeth in a grin.

“I'll give ya a minute's head start, and then you're _fucked_.”

Ichigo didn't bother replying as he slung the bag across his body and pulled his mask on, taking off into the forest until he found a decent looking tree, scaling it to sit on a low, sturdy branch maybe eight feet up. He could hear footsteps and tried scanning the area around him, eventually catching sight of a flash of blue not too far from where he was perched.

Ichigo stayed as still and silent as he could while he watched Grimmjow pick his way through the trees, eventually raising his gun so that he could keep the other man in his sights. Knowing that he had to shoot before he got found, Ichigo waited until Grimmjow was away from cover and then took his chance, calling on his med training to keep his hands steady.

Unfortunately he hadn't done much in the way of target practice and the shots went wide, Grimmjow diving into a legitimate roll to cover behind a thick tree trunk.

“Shouldn't have done that,” Grimmjow called playfully, still staying out of Ichigo's sight. “Now I know where ya are.”

On the last word, he ducked away from the tree, letting off a single shot that caught Ichigo right in the chest pad. The impact wasn't enough to dislodge him from the branch, but Ichigo quickly dropped to the ground anyway, taking off and zig-zagging away so that Grimmjow missed all of his following shots.

“Do better!” Ichigo screamed as he ran, hearing Grimmjow _genuinely_ laugh in return. Ichigo couldn't help but smile to himself as he circled back around, trying to get the drop on Grimmjow so that he could get his revenge.

It was with a vicious sort of pride that he managed splatter paint in the back of Grimmjow's thigh, which _had_ to have been painful. Ichigo laughed as he took off again, but it was abruptly cut off when paint hit his ass and _ooo_ , that was going to leave a mark.

The exhilaration of hunting Grimmjow through the forest left his heart pumping beyond the physical exertion, and when he heard his phone go off in his bag he suddenly realised that it was getting a little too dark to see his way around the forest. Thankfully he realised he wasn't too far away from the clearing where they'd started and he propped himself against a tree, answering the call.

“Time t' wrap it up,” Grimmjow said smoothly over the line, not sounding as exhausted as Ichigo felt. “Meet ya back at the car?”

“Yeah, no worries,” Ichigo said, hearing the line go dead almost immediately. He shook his head at Grimmjow's rudeness, but it didn't truly bother him as much as it probably should have. Heading back to the clearing, Ichigo took a quick look around, not seeing Grimmjow yet. He was a little suspicious as he made his way to the car, but no shots came out of the trees and he sat the bag next to Grimmjow's car, unstrapping his protective equipment.

Rustling to the side alerted him to Grimmjow's approach and Ichigo looked him up and down, admiring the paint all over his clothes and the way sweat was slicking down his hair, making it fall a little more normally than his usual styled mess. His paintball gun was limp at his side and his mask was in his spare hand, his smile still wild but more sated than before.

“You wanna eat?” Grimmjow asked once he collected Ichigo's bag, tossing it in the boot and pulling out a couple of towels to be thrown across the car seats, just in case. Ichigo nodded but then looked down at himself, his clothes dirty with paint and soil.

“Guess we'd better go casual.”

Grimmjow laughed, sounding relaxed and Ichigo was suddenly struck by how goddamn _hot_ the guy looked when he wasn't going out of his way to be annoying or mean. Their conversation as they drove back to the city was sporadic but natural, and although Grimmjow did still throw in a few jabs, Ichigo returned them without a care and realised that he was actually having _fun_ with it.

Grimmjow was irritating and crude, but he did have it in him to be a good guy and Ichigo didn't regret the previous night as much as he told himself that he should have. It was a scary thought but he shrugged it off and just enjoyed the moment.

Their quick stop into a fast food joint rounded out the evening and before Ichigo knew it, Grimmjow was pulling up in front of his apartment building. He'd pretty much behaved himself all night and it made Ichigo feel uncertain now that their little date was done.

If he'd met _this_ Grimmjow earlier, would things have been different?

Hating himself for even _considering_ something like that, Ichigo unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his collar before he could step out. Grimmjow tugged him back and then gently pulled his head around, swooping down and pressing his lips against Ichigo's.

Despite everything, Ichigo didn't _want_ to get free as Grimmjow licked into his mouth. He blamed it on the surprisingly pleasant mood he'd been put in, and he went along with the kiss until Grimmjow sat up.

“Good match today,” Grimmjow nodded as Ichigo slipped out of the car, leaning back down to look through the open window once he closed the door.

“It didn't suck _to_ _o_ badly,” Ichigo said mockingly, seeing the way Grimmjow's eyes lit up with challenge. It only took another moment for the light to disappear though, and Grimmjow's face visibly closed down, his shoulders losing their relaxed tilt.

“Well, Nel's happy now, so we're square.” Grimmjow revved the car once, Ichigo stepping back in surprise at the sudden coldness in his tone. The car pulled away from the curb before Ichigo could say anything else and he watched it disappear around the corner, wondering why Grimmjow's predictably dickish behaviour was giving him such a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	13. Throes of Rejection

Real life came crashing back like a ton of bricks, but Ichigo was feeling unsettled and unhappy as he went through his usual routine of school-homework-sleep-repeat.

If he'd let himself think about it, he could have easily come up with the reason why, but his was obstinately _not_ allowing his brain to go anywhere near _that_ topic. Instead he just threw himself into his assignments, citing them as excuses whenever his friends asked him to do something with them.

He knew that they'd want to ask a million questions about the _incident_ he wasn't thinking about, considering that Rukia and Rangiku would have spilt the beans about five minutes after he'd left the apartment, and there was no chance of an interrogation like that ending well.

So he spent almost a full week on his own, only speaking to classmates or lecturers whenever it was _completely_ necessary and contacting his friends through text alone. He sent them enough messages that they wouldn't worry or want to come and see him, and as he enjoyed the silence of his apartment Ichigo let himself brood.

It was Saturday afternoon when his front door flung open, Ichigo running out from the bedroom when he heard the noise. He was totally certain that he'd locked it, and his heart raced at the thought of trouble.

When he saw the figure lounging in his doorway he picked up the nearest book, throwing it at Shiro's stupid grinning face and practically growling when it was slapped out of the air before it could hit its target.

“Did you pick my lock?” Ichigo yelled, his worry melting into pure anger. Another book went flying at Shiro, this one caught in mid-air. Flipping it over and skimming the back, Shiro made an interested noise and tucked it under his arm.

“Chill, King. Heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that you ain't been seen in a couple days, thought I'd make sure you're alive.” Wandering into the apartment and dropping heavily onto the couch, Shiro reached for the TV remote and kicked back.

“I'm alive, get the fuck out!” Ichigo snapped despite the fact that he knew it wouldn't do any good. He'd never once managed to make Shiro do something he didn't want to, and he was certain that this wouldn't be the turning point. Throwing his hands up in annoyance, Ichigo returned to the bedroom and his textbooks, hearing the TV play in the background as he tried to focus on his assignment.

Sadly, it didn't work and he couldn't get himself to concentrate, knowing that Shiro could be doing anything in his living room. Slamming one of the heavy books shut, Ichigo stomped back out of his bedroom to see that his cousin had cracked into his beer stash, one in his hand and an empty on the coffee table as he watched some kind of game show.

Knowing that his productivity was officially shot for the day, Ichigo decided that if there was one person he could handle being around in his current state, it was Shiro. Grabbing his own beer, he joined Shiro on the couch, not minding the fact that his cousin immediately put his feet in his lap. They'd always been close growing up, and Ichigo had to admit that it actually felt nice to have a little platonic human contact.

They were quiet as they both watched the TV, but Ichigo knew that Shiro wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut for too long. He was proven right during the next commercial break when he felt Shiro's legs shift in his lap, the man turning to better face him.

“You're pissed 'bout something.”

Taking another drink, Ichigo rolled his response around in his brain, eventually deciding to just wing it. “You're a genius, Shiro.”

“I know,” Shiro laughed sharply, the sound nowhere near as pleasant as Gr-…

Ichigo grit his teeth and thought about anatomy, rolling through the full list of the body's bones until he had himself back under control. He looked up to find Shiro looking at him with narrowed eyes, the cogs clearly turning in his brain.

Sitting upright, Shiro shifted until his side was completely pressed against Ichigo's, an arm slung behind him along the back of the couch and thoroughly boxing Ichigo in. “Talk t' me.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Ichigo said, not quite as convincingly as he wanted. “I'm fine.”

“You're not.” Shiro stared at him, Ichigo unable to tear his own eyes away from the eerie, discoloured ones that Shiro had. They sat in silence for almost a moment until Ichigo crumbled, the weight of his unwanted emotions coming falling down on him.

“You ever hate someone so much that you hurt when they leave?”

Shiro's arm moved to wrap around Ichigo's shoulder and he leaned into his cousin, his head pounding and his eyes hot. “I hate him, Shiro, I _hate_ him and I don't know why I want to see him again.”

Shiro seemed to pick up the unspoken context and he pulled Ichigo in a little tighter, his rasping voice low and quiet. “You don't hate him, but ya gotta know, G's done. What'd ya even do on your weird little date anyway? Musta been good to get you worked up.”

Ichigo sniffed but his eyes were dry, his hands shaking just a little. “We went paintballing out in the woods and he was so weirdly nice. It was... _good_.”

Shiro stiffened, sitting straighter and staring into Ichigo's face. “You did _what_?”

“He took me paintballing.”

Standing up in a sudden, sharp motion, Shiro's entire demeanour changed as he looked down at Ichigo. “I'm gonna go talk to that asshole.”

“What?” Ichigo asked, reaching a hand out towards Shiro but not actually touching him. “Don't bother, I don't want-...”

“Ichi, trust me. I gotta have a little _chat_ with G.”

Before Ichigo could say anything, Shiro was out the door and he was alone again, the TV still playing quietly in the background.

* * *

 

“Sit down and _shut up_ ,” Shiro snarled as soon as Grimmjow opened the door, physically pushing him to the nearest seat and forcing him to sit in it. Grimmjow made token protests but went along with Shiro's demands anyway, recognising the look in his eyes as one that promised pain.

“What the _fuck_ are ya playin' at?” Shiro snarled, pacing back and forth in front of Grimmjow. The seated man opened his mouth, only to close it and put his hands up in mock surrender when Shiro shot him an absolute death glare.

“I told ya, I _told_ ya, don't fuck with my cousin. So what'd you do? You _fucked with him_.” Still stomping back and forth, Shiro was gesturing wildly, his movements uncontrolled and bordering on dangerous.

“All ya had to do was be reasonably _nice_ , no one said that ya had t' go full fuckin' _personal_ on his ass!”

Finally sick enough of Shiro's behaviour to push back against his manic attitude, Grimmjow stood up and made the most of the height he had over his friend. “What're you even _on_?”

“You _know_ what I mean,” Shiro snapped, pushing at Grimmjow's chest and snaring when he didn't move. “Ya took Ichi to you and Nnoi's spot. You've never taken _anyone_ there, not me, not Nel, not _anyone_.”

“So?” Grimmjow growled, stepping as far into Shiro's space as he possibly could. “I gave th' kid a good evenin' and didn't let him think there'd be another one.”

“But ya _want_ another one!” Shiro yelled back, not at all intimidated by how close Grimmjow was getting. He'd fought bigger and stronger guys and he always came out on top. “Ichi's upset that you're gone but you want t' go back. I'm not gonna let you hurt him just 'cause you're a fuckin' idiot.”

“I don't wanna go back,” Grimmjow scoffed. “I had my fun, now I'm done.”

Shiro took a deep breath, visibly calming himself down but not moving away from Grimmjow's attempted intimidation. His gaze was steady as he stared into blue eyes, determination to help his cousin firing him.

“I know you, Grimm. If ya didn't care you'd just've gotten him tanked and fucked him again. But ya took him t' do somethin' _real important_ to ya. I know ya don't date or whatever the shit your problem is, but ya don't go takin' nobodies t' do stuff like that just to make your sis happy.”

Turning to walk back out of the apartment, shaking off Grimmjow's attempt to grab his arm, Shiro paused when he reached the doorway and turned back to his friend. “I don't wanna see Ichi upset, and I guess I don't wanna see you lose somethin' that could be good for ya. If ya apologise then he'll forgive ya, and it'll be good for both of you.”

Taking another deep breath, he grinned wildly at Grimmjow. “And if Ichi's still sad by next weekend, you're in _mad_ trouble.”

As quickly as he'd arrived he was gone, leaving Grimmjow glaring at the closed door, agitation running through his entire body. He didn't know why he'd decided to take Ichigo to do something that was usually only his and Nnoitra's, but he should have guessed that Shiro would read something into it that wasn't really there.

He supposed he should have been happy that it didn't come to blows, regardless of his confidence that he could take Shiro down if it truly came to it. However, he knew that it would definitely go that far if he didn't speak to Ichigo and get him to pull on Shiro's leash.

With a put-upon sigh, Grimmjow picked up his phone and unlocked it, only to quickly reconsider. He doubted that a text would be enough to convince Ichigo to talk Shiro down, and a phone call would probably be barely better received.

Deciding that he had a whole week to figure out why everyone around him was being so goddamn stupid, Grimmjow threw his phone aside and walked into his kitchen, deciding to worry about what he'd do later.

 

* * *

As it was, he got his opportunity by pure chance just a couple of days later. If he was a spiritual person, Grimmjow might have thought that the world was trying to tell him something; but because he couldn't give a fuck about any of that, he just saw a handy moment to take advantage of.

Heading back to his car after another day of construction, Grimmjow heard a familiar voice and looked around, spotting two men on the other side of the road. Not bothering to take any notice of the second man, Grimmjow zeroed in on the one he recognised, knowing that orange hair couldn't really belong to anyone else.

“Oi!” He shouted as he threw his cigarette to the ground and made his way over to them, keeping his voice generally disinterested. “Kurosaki!”

Upon hearing his name, Ichigo whipped around, eyes darting towards Grimmjow and widening when they took in who was talking to him. Grabbing the arm of the other guy, Ichigo kept walking and Grimmjow _fumed_.

He didn't like being ignored.

Taking long, fast steps, it didn't take him long to catch up and he grabbed Ichigo's shoulder, pulling the man around to face him. Ichigo's angry face had nothing on Shiro's and so Grimmjow ignored it, knowing that this was probably the best chance he'd get to make Shiro back off.

“Your psycho cousin got a stick up his ass and I need ya to get him t' back off.” Grimmjow took a step towards Ichigo, only for a hand to shoot out and plant itself in his chest, stopping him where he stood. Staring down at the hand, Grimmjow followed the arm back to its owner, eyes tracing over black tattoos, tan skin and wild red hair.

A jolt of realisation hit him as he finally took notice of Ichigo's friend, the pieces coming together and clicking in a way he had honestly thought they never would.

“Step off,” the guy was saying, apparently taking Grimmjow's sudden freeze as a sign that he was afraid. Ichigo was smarter and seemed to be trying to get his friend to back down, but the damage was done.

Grimmjow grabbed the tattooed wrist and _squeezed_ , feeling bones creak under his hand. As he looked at Ichigo's friend, the guy seemed to realise the trouble he was in and tried to pull his hand back, but Grimmjow wasn't letting up.

“I know you,” he snarled, using his grip to pull the guy closer. “You're the guy from the bar.”

Eyes wide and mouth twisted in pain, the other man held up his free hand. “I dunno what you're talking about, man.”

“Oh, _really_?” Grimmjow snapped, letting the guy go and ripping off his shirt, exposing the scar running all the way down the middle of his torso. “This look _familiar_ to you, you fuckin' bastard?”

“Oh, _shit_ ,” he heard Ichigo say but it barely registered from behind his fog of rage. “That was _you_ , Renji?”

“I don-”

“ _I'll kill you_ ,” Grimmjow growled, forgetting all about Ichigo as he tackled the other guy to the footpath, determined to get his revenge for what had gone down in the bar that night. “ _I'll fuckin' kill you!”_


	14. Clash With Reality

Ichigo jumped back as Grimmjow and Renji crashed to the ground, both of them tussling wildly and taking gigantic swings that were barely even coming _close_ to connecting. His mind was racing as he ran through what he'd heard, trying to put together exactly what was going on.

Grimmjow had yelled something about a bar, and it had been related to his scar from when he'd been glassed by a stranger.

Renji had landed himself in hospital at the same time as Grimmjow, drunk to the point of blacking out and needing his stomach pumped, while also showing obvious signs of the aftermath of a fight.

Things were lining up too neatly for Ichigo to ignore the obvious, and he felt himself being torn as to what to do. If he ran to Renji's aid, he risked Grimmjow getting seriously hurt; but if he went to help Grimmjow, then Renji was going to get destroyed.

And despite everything that happened, Ichigo didn't want to see either of them ending up back in the hospital. He'd had enough time to realise that maybe he _didn't_ hate Grimmjow as much as he told himself he did, but that didn't put the man anywhere near the good books yet.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he called the cops.

Sticking close enough to try to break things up if the hits actually started seriously connecting, Ichigo put on his best 'panicked citizen' voice and begged for immediate help. The dispatcher assured him that a car was only a couple of minutes away and as soon as he heard sirens, he stepped back into a nearby alley.

The police didn't notice him as they ran in and forcibly separated Grimmjow and Renji, their skin bruised and scraped bloody but seemingly not carrying any _serious_ injuries. They were both still straining to get at each other even as cuffs were slapped onto their wrists and they were herded into different cars, Ichigo watching silently as they were taken away.

Shaking his head, Ichigo felt a _little_ vindictive over two of the biggest idiots in his life feeling the consequences of their stupid actions. He wasn't sure what Grimmjow had wanted but he'd ruined the peaceful afternoon Ichigo had been having with Renji, and Ichigo had always thought that Renji was too reckless and too easily provoked into fights.

Which was kind of hilarious when Ichigo thought about it, considering how he'd been in his own teenage years; but the difference between them was that while Ichigo had grown out of it, Renji hadn't. Maybe _this_ time he'd get himself sorted out, because Ichigo was planning on instructing everyone to let him stew with the police for a while.

Maybe that was taking things a little too far, but Ichigo didn't care. He was _mad_.

Pulling out his phone again, Ichigo dialled one of his newest numbers and leant against the alley wall while he waited for the call to connect.The female voice that answered made him smile despite everything, and he wished that he had better news to tell her.

“Hey, Nel,” Ichigo sighed, fingers clenching around the phone. “Look, you're gonna get a phone call soon and it's not going to be pretty.”

“Ichigo?” Nel asked, sounding nervous. “What's happened?”

Deciding to just bite the bullet, Ichigo braced himself and spoke. “Grimmjow's been arrested.”

“ _What?”_ Nel screeched, Ichigo holding the phone out from his ear and managing to avoid the worst of the noise. “What has that _idiot_ done now?”

“It, um, turns out that the guy who glassed him is a friend of mine,” Ichigo muttered, not quite sure how Nel would take that particular bit of news. “They got into a fight on the street and the cops got involved.”

Silence rang across the line and Ichigo began to feel nervous, already mentally saying goodbye to his budding friendship with Nel. He was relieved, though, when she started to laugh- even if it did sound the _slightest_ bit unhinged.

“Honestly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier,” Nel finally managed to say once she'd calmed down. “He shouldn't be getting into fights at his age, so I hope he enjoys spending the night locked up.”

Ichigo made a noise of agreement, nodding his head even though he knew that Nel couldn't see it. “I was thinking the same thing about Renji. We should be able to get them tomorrow morning, would you like to go in together?”

“As much as I don't want to have to deal with my dickhead brother getting himself into trouble, it'll be nice to see you.” Ichigo could hear the smile in Nel's voice, and as they made plans to meet up the next day and deal with the whole situation, he found himself feeling better than he had in quite a long time.

* * *

Grimmjow was cold and uncomfortable and _fucking pissed_.

He knew that he couldn't be held for too long if he behaved himself, but the _assholes_ in holding had purposefully put him and the redheaded prick- Renji, apparently- in the same cell. It was obvious that they were trying to get them to fight more so that they could pin more charges on them, but Grimmjow wasn't going to play their game.

Renji seemed to get the hint as well and they sat in silence at opposite ends of the cell, the time slowly passing in bored silence. Grimmjow could _feel_ the guy looking at him but he ignored it, not wanting to get baited into another fight.

“Look,” Renji eventually said once what felt like a lifetime had passed. Grimmjow groaned and tipped his head back against the cold cell wall, but it didn't deter Renji from what he wanted to say.

“I don't remember what happened that night. My girlfriend dumped me, I was going through some other shit and I drank so much I had to get my stomach pumped. I'm sorry about the fight...but you can't hate me too much because from what I hear, you wouldn't have met Ichigo otherwise.”

It didn't exactly quell Grimmjow's rage but it was _something_ , and he lazily rolled his head towards Renji.

“I'm not exactly gonna forgive ya, but it's not like that was my first bar fight. You're the first one t' scar me though.”

“Oh,” Renji mumbled, but Grimmjow wasn't done.

“Just know that I'd be kickin' the shit outta you if that wasn't _exactly_ what these scumbag cops want.”

“You can try,” Renji grinned, making Grimmjow roll his eyes. Tough guys, they were all the same. “But I don't think Ichi would like that.”

“You think I care?” Grimmjow announced, narrowing his eyes at the man sitting across from him. His life would have been so much easier if he _hadn't_ met Ichigo, considering all the trouble he'd been put through recently due to their association.

“I know _he_ cares,” Renji sighed, sounding tired and bored and sick of it all. “I think he really likes you...god knows why though.”

“Oi!” Grimmjow snapped, although he didn't have it in him to make it sound menacing. Something about the cell was sapping all of his energy, his anger, his _fight_ , and he was finding that the conversation was preferable to counting the seconds in silence. “Of course he likes me, who wouldn't?”

“Arrogant prick. No, seriously, from what I've heard Ichigo is doing the dumb fucking thing he does whenever he feels emotions. Kid gets all kinds of fucked up and pushes everyone away.” Renji tapped his fingers on the solid bench they were sitting on, staring blankly up towards the ceiling. “Acts like he hates everyone and then feels lonely.”

Grimmjow just grunted in return and the conversation dried up, but his mind was running at a million miles per hour. Ichigo's cousin thought that Ichigo was legitimately into him, and apparently so too did his friends. Ichigo was smart, hot and a great lay…

Why didn't Grimmjow date, again?

Shaking his head a little at how ridiculous his brain got when he apparently had nothing to do but sit and think, Grimmjow let the events of the past few weeks wash over him; the fighting, the flirting, the hatesex that certainly didn't seem that much like hatesex now that he actually reconsidered everything that happened.

It was ridiculous to think that this could ever work. Ichigo was volatile and Grimmjow had a temper, meaning that their fights would be loud and common. Grimmjow had sworn to himself a long time ago that he'd never get physical with a partner, considering what had happened to his mother, but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to get into arguments.

Still, a wicked grin broke out on his face when he thought about how wild their make-up sex would be, leading Renji to ask what was so goddamn funny.

“Just thinkin' about fuckin' Ichigo,” Grimmjow laughed, enjoying the off-put expression on his cellmate's face. Renji muttered something about regretting asking and looked away again, leaving Grimmjow to fall further into his head.

By the time he managed to briefly doze off, Grimmjow had come to a number of conclusions about himself and his life, the kinds of things that he _knew_ he would never have had time to think about in his normal life. He still wasn't one hundred percent on board with all the nonsense that the people around him kept spouting, but that was really to be expected.

Things would take a while...but maybe it was time for him to try something new?

Rolling the same few thoughts over and over in his head, Grimmjow nearly jumped when the door of their cell suddenly screeched open, a bored-looking cop standing in the doorway.

“Abarai, Jaegerjaquez, you're out.”

Grimmjow stood up and stretched out the kinks in his body, feeling utterly exhausted and all kinds of messed up. Renji looked about the same and the pair of them took slow steps out of the cell, passing the cop and heading up the hallway towards the entrance. Several heavy sets of doors swung open for them and then clanged shut behind them until they were finally standing at the public front of the complex, two unimpressed looking people waiting for them.

“ _Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez_ ,” Nel snapped as she crossed her arms, staring him down. “You're fucking lucky that you had bail money in your bank account, otherwise you'd be staying.”

Ichigo had a similar expression pointed at Renji, and Grimmjow found himself vaguely marvelling in the fact that it wasn't focused on him for once. It was...nice?

“And _you_ , Renji, owe all of us who chipped in to get your dumb ass out.”

Grimmjow couldn't help the little snicker that slipped out, and suddenly Ichigo's attention _was_ focused on him. He hadn't quite managed to work out exactly how he was going to handle this, but he figured that casual was best.

“S'up, Schoolboy?”

In return, he got a raised eyebrow before Ichigo turned away. It actually stung a little and Grimmjow frowned, wondering why this had gone so much smoother in his head. People _sucked_.

“Look, I mighta been a bit harsh last week.” Grimmjow steadfastly ignored Nel's derisive snort of ' _a bit?'_ and kept looking at Ichigo, trying to get the man to turn back to him. “Had a lotta time to think when I was behind bars.”

“You were there for a _night_ ,” Ichigo suddenly laughed, sounding utterly _done_. “Don't act like you're tough.”

Grimmjow just shrugged, resisting the urge to look around and see how closely the other two were listening in. “Do you wanna go out again or not?”

“Thought you said you were _done_ ,” Ichigo spat out, although Grimmjow suspected that he was trying to hide his hurt with anger. If what Renji mentioned was true, then he was probably right.

“ _Someone_ ,” Grimmjow muttered with a pointed look at Nel, “said that maybe I should think about where I'm goin' in my life. Think we'd be pretty fuckin' hot together.”

“So I'm meant to just, what, swoon into your arms?” Ichigo's eyes were blazing and it was a thing of wonder in Grimmjow's opinion. “You pissed me off, fucked me and then threw me aside, and now you want me to _date you?_ ”

It didn't sound _fantastic_ when he put it like that, but Grimmjow didn't see why all the vitriol was entirely necessary. “Well, what the fuck else do you want from me?”

Ichigo threw his hands up in disgust, and for the first time Grimmjow noticed the crowd of cops who were slowly getting closer, on guard in case they needed to de-escalate the situation. It turned out to be unnecessary, though, because Ichigo just laughed bitterly and a little sadly.

“An apology would be a start.”

“Okay,” Grimmjow shrugged. “Sorry. Whatever.”

“ _Not fucking good enough!_ ” Ichigo yelled, his hand reaching out and his index finger jabbing Grimmjow in the chest. “That was _pathetic_ , and if you're serious then you'll have to do better.”

Turning on his heel, Ichigo stormed out of the building with Renji on his heels. Grimmjow just shook his head and watched them leave, turning to share his disbelief with Nel but flinching a little when he saw the venom obvious in her expression.

“You're _useless_.”

“Hey, at least I tried,” Grimmjow muttered, collecting his stuff from one of the cops and tucking it all into his pockets.

“Were you serious?” Nel suddenly asked, her hand reach out and grabbing his elbow.

“Huh?”

“About Ichigo,” she clarified, sounding calmer but still dangerous. “Are you fucking with him? Or are you seriously interested?”

Grimmjow just shrugged again, walking out of the building and looking around for Nel's car. He heard her coming up behind him and let her cut him off, stopping short so that he didn't barrel through her.

“Grimm,” she said in a softer voice, “G, baby. If you really want to try again, I can help you, but you gotta promise me that you're not just fucking around this time.”

Emotions weren't something that Grimmjow put a lot of stock in, but he'd barely slept and it was quickly occurring to him that the highlight of his day so far had been seeing Ichigo standing there when the cop led them out of the cells.

Under normal circumstances he would have fought tooth and nail to avoid admitting anything, but he opened his mouth and then he couldn't take it back, because he knew that Nel would never let him forget it.

“I'm serious, Nel.”


	15. We'll Grind That Axe for a Long Time

After Nel herded Grimmjow into her apartment, knowing that he would immediately retreat if allowed to go back to his own place, she began to fling ideas at him for how he could possibly apologise properly to Ichigo.

It was quickly becoming obvious, though, that the usual tactics either weren't going to work on Ichigo or Grimmjow straight-out refused to do them.

“Okay, well what about something big? Grand gestures, y'know?”

“Pretty sure he'll think I'm mockin' him or trying t' embarrass him.”

“Take him for a nice dinner?”

“An' put him near a _knife?_ ”

“Flowers?”

“Gay.”

“You _are_ gay, Grimmjow!”

“I'm bi, _Nelliel_.”

Letting out a frustrated noise and throwing her hands in the air, Nel turned away from where Grimmjow was sprawling all over one of her armchairs, looking for all the world like he was a few seconds from falling asleep.

“Look,” she started after turning back and taking a deep breath to calm her temper, “I'm trying to _help_ here. You said you wanted to give things a shot with Ichigo, didn't you?”

Grimmjow just shrugged, although it was an awkward movement due to how his shoulders were pressed against the arm of the chair as he lay across it.

“This is such a waste of my time,” Nel hissed. “No wonder you never date, you couldn't connect with another person if you _tried_. Must be genetic.”

She went cold the moment the words had left her mouth, slapping a manicured hand over her lips and staring wide-eyed at her brother. Grimmjow was still in the same sloppy position but all traces of sleepiness had left his eyes, leaving him with the kind of cold, hate-filled glare that legitimately worried Nel.

“Grimm, I'm so sorry, I didn't mea-”

“ _Don't_ ,” Grimmjow snapped, slowly pushing himself up into a proper sitting position. “Do you even _know_ how hard I've tried t' make sure I don't end up like our shitty fuckin' excuse for a father?”

Standing up, Grimmjow didn't move any closer to Nel and underneath his anger he was vaguely relieved to see that there was no fear in her eyes, only apologetic sadness. Despite his obvious size advantage over her and despite what she said when she was angry, she knew that Grimmjow wasn't _him_. Still, he wasn't letting it go until she would never fling those accusations at him ever again.

“Don't ya _think_ ,” he spat, “That maybe I see _exactly_ how damn good Ichi could be for me? That I dunno how t' handle this _because_ I don't wanna fuck this up?”

Running a rough hand through his hair, Grimmjow looked off to one side and grit his teeth, staring blankly at the wall so that he didn't have to look into his sister's eyes. “I spent last night in a _cell_ 'cause I fucked up some dude who landed me in the fuckin' hospital. I got into _that_ fight because I was drunk, an' if he hadn't started shit then I would've fucked some random chick like every other night.”

Nel started to say something, but a sharp look from Grimmjow had her closing her mouth and gesturing for him to continue.

“All it would've taken was one broken condom and I'd be _screwed_ , Nel. God only knows how it didn't happen, but what if it had? If I'd got one of 'em pregnant, then I'd either be a deadbeat absent dad or stuck with someone I couldn't goddamn stand an' a kid I never wanted. Sound familiar?”

The question was clearly rhetorical but Nel nodded regardless, drawing in on herself from the sheer weight of Grimmjow's emotional outburst. It had been a long time since he'd been so _open_ with her, and she hated that it had been triggered by her own insensitive remark wearing down his already-tired mind.

“So _yeah_ , maybe I realised it was time t' grow the fuck up unless I wanted t' end up just like him. Maybe I _can_ see m'self bein' happy with Ichigo, and maybe I didn't know how t' handle that. Maybe I don't wanna hear that I've already fucked up my chance by treatin' him like I would anyone else. I don't fuckin' _know_ , Nel, and I _hate it_.”

The sheer rawness of it all made Nel feel heat prick her eyes, her vision blurring a little as tears started welling up. Grimmjow looked _drained_ , with deep purple-black smudges under his eyes from exhaustion and his hair and clothes messy from the uncomfortable night. The anger seemed like it had left him empty and she couldn't help herself: before he could react, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, trying to wordlessly tell him that she was always going to be there for him.

Grimmjow stayed motionless in her hold, not going to respond but not trying to escape either. He eventually put one hand on top of her head in an awkward display of affection and she knew she was forgiven, pulling back and smiling a little sadly at him.

Letting his hand drop away from Nel, Grimmjow yawned obnoxiously loudly. “I'm gonna steal your bed for a bit, sis.”

“Okay,” she replied with a gentle smile, reaching out and patting him on the arm. “Then I'll help you figure out how you're gonna sweep Ichigo off his feet.”

“Whatever,” Grimmjow said as he walked away, although he sounded less dismissive and more... _amused_. Nel grinned to herself and wiped at her still-damp eyes, fairly certain from talking to Ichigo in the morning that Grimmjow _did_ still have a chance.

She just wanted her brother to be happy, and she knew that between them they could come up with a way to gain Ichigo's forgiveness.

* * *

By the time a few more days had passed, Ichigo wasn't feeling particularly angry any more. Tired, yes. Emotionally drained, sure. More than a little frustrated with both Renji and Grimmjow? _Definitely_.

But he and Renji had pieced together what they could from the night in the bar, and as it had turned out that Shiro had actually been there to witness the whole thing, Ichigo couldn't say that he faulted Grimmjow for attacking Renji the way he had. He wasn't _happy_ about it, but it wasn't like the whole thing had been completely unprovoked.

Beyond that, though, Ichigo was finding that he wasn't as mad at Grimmjow as he maybe should have been for the way he'd acted. Emotional bullshit wasn't exactly Ichigo's forte, so he couldn't exactly expect Grimmjow to be held to a higher standard when it came to saying what he felt.

In fact, Ichigo was prepared to accept almost any apology that the other man could come up with, as long as it felt decently genuine. But he hadn't heard a thing from Grimmjow since the morning at the police lock-up, and the few brief text conversations he'd had with Nel hadn't mentioned Grimmjow at all.

Even Shiro seemed to be keeping relatively quiet, and Ichigo was beginning to wonder if he'd been shut out completely. Shuuhei, after hearing the entire story, had assured him that it didn't seem like that was what was happening, but when the weekend passed without any word Ichigo convinced himself that he had pushed his luck too far.

At the time, he hadn't been anywhere near ready to forgive Grimmjow for his behaviour and that was why he'd been so harsh; now, though, he was wondering why he'd had such a knee-jerk reaction. He knew that if he took it back and tried talking to Grimmjow first, though, it might set a dangerous precedent for them.

If he'd been anywhere other than in the middle of a lecture, Ichigo would have groaned and hit his head against the nearest flat surface in frustration. As it was, he settled for tightening his grip on his pen, hearing the plastic creak satisfyingly in his fingers.

Tuning back in to Doctor Kurotsuchi's lecture, Ichigo forced all thoughts of Grimmjow out of his head and tried to focus on learning. None of it seemed particularly new though, and Ichigo quickly felt his thoughts beginning to drift again as Kurotsuchi repeated things that they all should have already known. He did that more often than he probably should have, apparently convinced that all of his students were idiots who couldn't process information the first time around.

It was actually a welcome distraction when Ichigo felt his phone silently vibrate in his pocket. Glancing at the front of the hall to ensure that Kurotsuchi wouldn't see him and pitch a fit, Ichigo slipped the phone slightly out of his pocket and angled it so that he could see the screen.

It felt like his whole body jolted when he saw that the call was coming through from Grimmjow, but he forced himself to calm down. He was in class and Grimmjow had left him hanging for so long that it could wait until school was done.

Still, he couldn't help but feel disappointed when the call ended. He even found himself irrationally wondering if it had rung out or if Grimmjow had hung up early; how many times had it vibrated?

When it started ringing for a second time, Ichigo was out the door of the lecture hall before the second round of pulses had passed, glad that he was near the door and completely uncaring of the fact that Kurotsuchi was probably glaring holes in him as he bailed.

Ichigo was strong, but there were _limits_ , and he kind of wanted to hear Grimmjow's voice.

No, scrap that- he wanted his apology. Yes, it was definitely that one.

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo answered the call with the most casual greeting he could possibly muster.

“Took ya long enough,” Grimmjow drawled down the line, his deep tones coming out like a punch in Ichigo's gut. Where he'd expected to feel at least a _little_ angry, Ichigo found that he was just _relieved_ that Grimmjow apparently hadn't cut him off entirely.

“I'm in class, what do you want?” He wasn't going to let Grimmjow know that he was mostly forgiven. There wouldn't be any fun in that.

“I gotcha a present,” Grimmjow said, very obviously utterly proud of himself. Ichigo frowned in confusion, leaning back against the outside wall of the lecture theatre.

“And this couldn't wait...why?”

“Because I've got maybe two minutes before someone sticks their head into this alley, and I ain't goin' back to jail even for you.”

“ _Jail?_ ” Ichigo shrieked, turning the heads of everyone within hearing distance. Flushing red, he ducked his head and lowered his voice to continue, “What the _fuck_ have you done?”

“I decided it's time t' stop with the bar fights and the street fights. But one thing seemed kinda unfinished, so I went out and finished it for ya. To say I'm sorry for everythin', yeah? Took another sick day off work an' all for it.”

Before the rest actually sank in, Ichigo found himself smiling at actually _hearing_ Grimmjow say sorry...but that didn't last long as he clicked to everything else that the man had said.

“ _Grimmjow_ ,” He said as sternly as he could possibly manage, “What. Did. You. Do?”

The low, arrogant laugh he got in return was as unsettling as it was arousing. “Well, I'm gonna let my buddy here tell ya _all_ about it.”

He heard Grimmjow talk quietly to someone else, the conversation too low and muffled for Ichigo to make out what was being said. After a few more moments, he heard Grimmjow distantly demand something that sounded like ' _talk_ ', and a vaguely familiar voice suddenly filtered through the speaker.

“K-Kurosaki?” Whoever it was sounded like they were angry but in pain, and Ichigo tried without success to place the voice.

“Yes?”

“Your little fucking _bitch_ of- _Ow, fucking_ _ **shit**_ _, alright, alright,_ ” The person cut off with a pained gasp, Grimmjow again barely audible in the background saying something that couldn't be deciphered.

More muffled conversation followed, Ichigo straining his ears but only managing to make out a word or two every sentence. However, he heard it loud and clear when Grimmjow suddenly snarled, “ _Talk_ , Tsukishima.”

Ichigo gasped, the identity behind the voice suddenly becoming very clear. He didn't know _why_ Grimmjow had apparently gone after Tsukishima, but it wasn't exactly unwelcome after the constant assaults, harassment and the _goddamn attempted rape._

“I won't go after you again,” Tsukishima forced out, his heavy, pained panting obvious even through the phone. “I- _argh_ \- won't...bother you any more.”

“And what'll happen if either of us _ever_ sees ya again?” Came Grimmjow's voice, this time loud and clear.

“...You'll break my kneecaps,” Tsukishima eventually forced out again, voice weak and wavering.

“Good boy,” Grimmjow cooed mockingly. Shuffling sounds came down the line, like someone standing up, and when Grimmjow spoke again it was clear, like the phone was once again properly up to his face. “You catch that, Ichigo?”

“Um, yeah...but, uh, what _was_ all that?”

“If ya let me, I'll explain later. Just know that this fucker won't bother ya ever again, 'cause I drilled a bit of _sense_ into him. You've been too soft on him, Ichigo, but he ain't gonna forget _this_ any time soon.”

“Wait,” Ichigo demanded, still trying to make sense of everything. “You're trying to apologise to me by beating the shit out of my stalker?”

“Thought that was obvious,” Grimmjow said, the faint sounds of footsteps being picked up by the phone.

“That's...I don't even have _words_ for how fucked up that is,” Ichigo muttered, leaning his head back and staring up at the sky. He hadn't expected Grimmjow to go so far to try and get back in his good books, and he was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Don't act like ya aren't impressed,” Grimmjow scoffed. “We fucked 'cause you got so hot from beatin' the shit outta this loser and his friends that you just couldn't hold back. If I'm fucked up then you're right there with me.”

He had a point, and Ichigo sighed into the phone. “It's also one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me...not exactly _romantic_ , but whatever.”

“Romance, hey?” Grimmjow said with amusement obvious in his voice. “How 'bout I meet you at your apartment and we'll see about _romance_.”

“I haven't said that I forgive you yet,” Ichigo snapped back, more for show than anything else. Grimmjow had done something stupid and risky, but if it worked then Ichigo was going to be grateful for a _very_ long time. If Grimmjow was willing to go to that much effort just for him, then maybe he _was_ serious about giving them a shot.

“If you weren't gonna forgive me then you wouldn't have picked up the phone.”

“Fine,” Ichigo muttered, sounding far more unhappy than he actually felt. “I'll be home in about two hours.”

“I'll be waiting,” Grimmjow _purred_ , and Ichigo had to very hurriedly distract himself so that he didn't pop a boner in front of everyone walking past. The line went dead almost immediately after, leaving Ichigo to quietly collect himself before sneaking back into the lecture theatre.

Kurotsuchi only glared at him for about half the remaining lecture time and so Ichigo counted that as a win, even as each minute seemed to drag on for about ten times longer than it should have. Ichigo was so anxious to get out that he barely absorbed a single piece of information for the rest of the lecture, and although he knew he'd most likely pay for it later he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Grimmjow was waiting for him, and it really was the moment of truth.


	16. This Love

When Ichigo _finally_ managed to escape from school, he very quickly found that it wasn't just lectures that were crawling by. To his immense frustration, it felt like everyone in the city was on the road, and although he logically knew that he was more or less making the usual time in getting home, it felt like he was being stopped every few metres.

It was with a heavy, aggressive hand that he wrenched on his parking brake and slammed his car door shut once he finally got home, road rage and _Grimmjow_ already setting his blood to boil as he stomped up to his apartment. Finding the door unlocked was the final straw and Ichigo grit his teeth and slammed his way inside, glaring at where Grimmjow appeared from the kitchen.

“ _Can you people stop fucking breaking into my apartment?_ ” Ichigo snarled, dropping his stuff on the ground and kicking the door closed behind him.

Grimmjow just shrugged lazily, leaning against the kitchen door frame and looking Ichigo up and down with a smirk. “Get better locks, then.”

Deciding that it wasn't worth engaging, Ichigo rolled his eyes and sighed. He tracked Grimmjow as the man walked towards him, unmoving until Grimmjow was right up in his personal space. When the man leant forward with obvious intent, his hand reaching out to curl around the back of Ichigo's neck, the redhead quickly ducked under and out of the way.

He didn't look back as he walked away from Grimmjow, moving into the living room with his head held high. He'd calmed himself enough to be thinking rationally, but he was still impatient as he waited for Grimmjow to catch up with him. Grimmjow didn't seem at all bothered by his previous rejection, his walk easy as he wandered into the living room after Ichigo, his timing a little too perfectly uncaring.

“Well?” Ichigo asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the other man. Grimmjow flat-out ignored him and instead wandered over to Ichigo's couch, sprawling down on it with his legs spread obnoxiously wide.

“Ain't this where ya swoon at me or somethin'?” Grimmjow finally asked, his grin showing a few more teeth than was strictly necessary. Ichigo took a deep breath and fought back his instinct to lash out, knowing that they'd get nowhere if they both blew up like they usually did.

“I don't need you to protect me, Grimmjow.” He made sure to keep his voice level, trying to get his point across without snapping; apparently his bedside manner had improved since the first time he'd met Grimmjow, because he was feeling awfully level-headed. Grimmjow seemed the _faintest_ bit surprised by Ichigo's measured response but he covered it quickly, his antagonistic grin becoming something more predatory.

“Oh, I know,” he drawled, one arm stretching along the back of the couch while the other dropped into his lap, the action drawing Ichigo's attention before he could snap his eyes back to Grimmjow's face. “I remember when we fought at my place, you got me _real_ worked up.”

Ichigo twitched, thinking back to the picture that had started all of that, the one that was saved in the depths of his phone. He wasn't even sure why he still had it, but the fact of the matter was that he _did_ , and he remembered every moment of that day from snapping Grimmjow in the face to the hot, insistent mouth that had been on his own.

With a heavy sigh, Ichigo knew why he couldn't let go of Grimmjow like he had with everyone else, whether they were a one-night stand or a serious partner like Orihime had been. His relationship with Orihime had been steady and quiet, the kind of thing that could only last if both people were satisfied with mediocrity. They'd been good friends clinging to the idea that they could be more, but it was only now that Ichigo could _really_ understand that.

Grimmjow made him angry, made him sad, made him _so fucking frustrated_ that he felt like he could scream; but their every moment together was stamped in full colour through Ichigo's memory, and the good times lit a fire inside him that made him want to grin like a goddamn dork.

It wasn't enough for Ichigo to accept Grimmjow's asshole behaviours without reservations, but it was the kind of start that he didn't want to let slip through his fingers.

Walking over to the couch, Ichigo pushed Grimmjow's leg out of the way and sat down, positioning himself so that his back was against the arm of the couch and one leg was tucked underneath him. Grimmjow seemed to sense the sudden heavy atmosphere and straightened up a little, shifting so that he and Ichigo could more easily look at each other.

“What are we even doing?” Ichigo asked after a pregnant pause, his voice softer than he thought he would ever use with Grimmjow. The other man turned away slightly as he ran the question through his head and Ichigo found himself staring at the sharp lines of Grimmjow's profile, wondering when he'd missed the simmering sexual attraction becoming something he wanted to invest more in.

He'd spent so much time trying to hate Grimmjow that he'd missed just how much the man had done for him without even being asked. Repeated bouts with Tsukishima, looking after his concussion-addled ass, pushing the limits but never _truly_ doing anything that Ichigo hadn'twanted; Grimmjow was a dick, that was absolutely certain, but he'd already proven himself to be nicer than he would ever admit to being.

Without his usual grin, Grimmjow's eyes looked heavy and clouded when he finally returned his gaze to Ichigo, and it struck himthat there was so much about Grimmjow that he didn't know.

More than anything else at that moment, he wanted to _learn_.

“Grimmjow, I'm serious,” Ichigo reiterated in the face of the other man's uncharacteristic silence. “Are we just dicking around with each other?”

“I broke your stalker's _hand_ ,” Grimmjow suddenly hissed, turning his head to stare holes into Ichigo from straight-on. “Me and Nel took _hours_ comin' up with something to make ya happy. I tracked him down when none of his little fuckin' friends were around and made sure no one saw me drillin' some sense into him. Does that _sound_ like I'm dicking around with ya?”

The reminder honestly warmed Ichigo's heart, knowing that Grimmjow had gone so far just to apologise properly and win his favour back. It was enough to make him stretch out his leg, knocking his foot against Grimmjow's and maintaining the tiniest bit of contact between them. “If you're serious then I'm willing to try...something. But it's going to take a lot of work, and I need to know that _you_ know that.”

“I'm not gonna become some fuckin' perfect housewife.” It was less of an accusation and more of a flat, factual statement, so Ichigo just shrugged.

“I don't want you to be. I just don't want you throwing me aside again, because that _hurt_. I'm not going through that again.”

“Look,” Grimmjow started before cutting himself off, running rough fingers through his hair and twitching his other hand towards his mouth like he could will a lit cigarette to appear there. “This ain't my jam. I fuck an' I leave, but you...I freaked out, okay? But I got some sense knocked into me an' I wanna try, even if I might just fuck up again.”

It was a credit to Grimmjow's unflinching self-assurance that he didn't falter away from steady eye contact for even a second, and it was honestly that unwavering belief that sealed the deal for Ichigo. He was fully aware that it might not work at all, and they'd last all of a week before going their separate ways forever, but he didn't even really care.

For once, he just wanted to do something that he _craved_ without worrying about possible consequences. If they fucked up, then they fucked up; but if they didn't…

Somehow, Ichigo knew that they had the chance to be something truly great.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Grimmjow echoed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Ichigo nodded, giving into the wide smile that was tugging insistently on his lips.

“Let's do it. Give 'us' a shot.”

Grimmjow looked suspicious for a while longer until he slouched back, his lips lifting in a relaxed smirk. “Congrats on bein' the one to tie me down, then.”

Although Ichigo knew what Grimmjow meant, he couldn't help the sudden mental image of that tall, well-built body spread out on a bed, smooth ropes holding his hands together and his legs open with his honestly fantastic cock hard and dripping. Combined with the elation he was feeling from finally working things out with Grimmjow, Ichigo suddenly just wanted to get his hands and lips onto the other man.

Their sexual compatibility had been well-proven, and Ichigo was sick of denying himself what he really wanted. Maybe it was going too fast, but it wasn't like this would be the first time; and now that he knew it wasn't going to be the last, Ichigo didn't feel bad about fluidly sliding up the couch until he was looming over Grimmjow. His knees bracketed Grimmjow's thighs and he rested his arms on Grimmjow's shoulders, feeling good about relaxing into the large hands that grabbed his hips.

“Are you into being tied down?” Ichigo murmured, leaning in to quickly peck Grimmjow's lips but pulling back before the other man could drag him into anything deeper. The hands on his hips ran up and down his sides before tightening up on his waist, pulling him closer so that his ass was positioned over Grimmjow's crotch.

“Not really,” Grimmjow replied honestly, encouraging Ichigo to move his hips in tiny little circles that were just enough to fully pique his body's interest. “This is good, but.”

“Alright then, no bondage. I want to get a hand down your pants, though.”

Grimmjow gave him enough slack to shift back slightly, Ichigo running a hand down the other man's body and cupping Grimmjow's stiffening dick. When he went to undo Grimmjow's pants, though, steady fingers closed around his wrists and held him in place.

“You ain't just doin' this 'cause you think I'll bail otherwise, are ya?”

It was a simple question, but if Ichigo hadn't already been certain that he'd made the right decision then he'd be thoroughly convinced now. Letting Grimmjow keep a hold on his wrists, he leant forward and took Grimmjow's mouth with his own.

The kiss was deep, messy and a little frantic, but it seemed to be answer enough for Grimmjow and he let go of Ichigo's wrists, instead grabbing his face in his hands. Ichigo immediately went back to what he wanted to be doing, fumbling a little between their bodies as he pulled open Grimmjow's pants and fished out his hard cock from his underwear, still licking into Grimmjow's mouth.

The first one to pull away was Grimmjow, tipping his head back and letting out a quiet growl when Ichigo began to stroke him. He seemed more than happy to let Ichigo do all the work, simply just tangling a hand into Ichigo's hair when he began to nip and suck at his neck.

Feeling like his own pants were getting uncomfortably tight, Ichigo canted his hips forward and practically ripped his pants and underwear down, setting his own dick alongside Grimmjow's. Stretching his hand as far as he could around the both of them, precome smearing together in a very poor approximation of lube, Ichigo mostly just thrust in time with Grimmjow, enjoying the heat of their grinding.

He left a vibrant trail of marks along Grimmjow's skin and down to the neckline of his shirt, Grimmjow utterly content to rest his head back and let Ichigo do as he would. Most of his movement was confined to his hips, thrusting up against Ichigo's hand and cock with pleased little grunts.

Having Grimmjow so utterly pleased to be at his mercy was one of the hottest things he'd ever experienced, and Ichigo felt the tension in his groin start to break open. He let out a pleasured, mindless moan as he tensed up and came, splattering his hand with come and wincing slightly at the little bits of mess that made it onto Grimmjow's shirt.

Letting his soft, sticky cock fall away from his hand, Ichigo focused in on Grimmjow's dick alone and enjoyed the way it felt in his hand, looking forward to getting to learn every ridge and vein on it. Grimmjow's thrusts were becoming more erratic and forceful, and although he gave no warning when he began to come Ichigo could feel it starting, sinking his teeth into Grimmjow's shoulder and drawing a loud, ecstatic shout out of the man from the pleasure-pain.

The mess on Grimmjow's shirt increased, only getting worse when Ichigo clutched at the material with his filthy hand and slumped forward, taking Grimmjow's lips again in a far more lazy, relaxed kiss than before.

“Do you think we can do this?” He asked once the kiss broke, propping himself up with both the couch and Grimmjow's rather relaxed body. The taller man just grunted at him, but Ichigo couldn't say he particularly minded. Their relationship wasn't going to be sappy romance and constant talking, because neither of them would ever want something like that.

They would fight. They would probably 'break up' more than once, especially while they were still young and hot-headed. If they even managed to make it past their first month it would be a goddamn miracle, and that was before they even tried to tackle the problem of Grimmjow and Renji inevitably crossing paths.

But they were more than willing to _try_ and they both knew that if, by some absolute fluke of fate, they managed to make it work?

Then nothing else could ever come close to what they would have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it's finally fucking over. It's been more than three and half years and I'm finally free of this goddamn fic (can you tell that I ran out of even halfway-relevant Pantera song titles like six chapters in)
> 
> Thanks for reading, extra thanks to those who left kudos and/or reviews, and extra extra thanks to anyone who's been hanging around since the great hiatus of 2012-May 2015.

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on Tumblr](http://socialdegenerate.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dinner Theatre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/585007) by [blushingninja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushingninja/pseuds/blushingninja)




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